


Avi's Angel

by Draganonymous



Series: Avi's Angel [1]
Category: Pentatonix
Genre: Angst and Feels, Gen, Guardian Angel, No Smut, Pre-Relationship, slight crossovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-11
Updated: 2015-12-11
Packaged: 2018-05-06 04:36:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 22,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5403227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Draganonymous/pseuds/Draganonymous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Avi Kaplan wanted a dragon for Christmas. "It could happen," he told people. What he got was Angel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Avi Meets His Guardian Angel

**Author's Note:**

> I tend to incorporate lines from other things, often misquoted to fit the work. There are references to books, movies, and TV shows everywhere, though I try to avoid plagiarism. I encourage feedback, so feel free to comment!
> 
> Okay, because I'm getting mixed up, here's a quick guide to angelic pronouns:  
> They: both angel and vessel in harmony  
> She: angel didn't have the skill or desire to contribute  
> He: vessel didn't have the skill or desire to contribute

He was home. It was a rare occurrence these days, so he took a moment to simply take in the familiar lines of his bedroom. The bed, the dresser, the... He blinked and rubbed his eyes, as though it would make the apparition disappear.  
   No, the hazy being was still standing calmly beside his dresser.  
   "Who are you?" He asked. For some reason, this amused the creature.  
   He could not have known that he was, in reality, addressing two beings. The body belonged to a mother of three who was technically brain dead. The spiritual aspect that overlay her astral projection was an angel.  
   It was the mother who laughed. You wouldn't think that a brain dead astral projection could find anything to laugh about, but she'd been an odd one from the start.  
    _:Why do you laugh, little one?:_ the angel asked.  
    _:If you'd ever played video games, you'd know.:  
_    The angel/mother took a single step toward the bassist. "We are here to protect you."  
   He fell back against the door, eyes darting around the room. "We? Who else is in here?!"  
   She smiled her most Madonna-like smile. "We are what you see before you. Ah, you disbelieve. This is natural. We shall tell you what we are." What she did not add was too painful to bear: And then, you will forget. It became an ordeal to maintain the smile, so she let her face settle into a vague mask of politeness.  
   "We are what you might term a symbiote." _Unless you watch Supernatural, then you'd know exactly what we are,_ she added silently. "Angels cannot walk the earth alone, should they wish to be heard. Most human minds are incapable of hearing our voices. We require..."  
   The angel had to force the words past a lump of bitterness, but the woman had no such trouble. "A vessel. A 'heavenly host', if you will. They need a human body, preferrably someone who won't be missed." This time it was the woman who could barely speak the words.  
   "The shape you see before you is how I remember my body. I am lying in hospital somewhere, in a coma." Irreversible, though she did not say so. Angels were big on distributing information on a need to know basis. The bassist did not need to know, so she did not tell him.  
   "What is your name?"  
   She told him, knowing full well he would forget. "We would like to retrieve a lost artifact, as a show of goodwill. It is known what was lost, but not where or when. May we retrieve the information--" _:Dude, don't spelunk in his noggin! Just_ ask _!:_  
   The angel released control of her arm, and it dropped to her side. "Where did you lose your ring?"  
   His face went blank with shock. "How did you know about that?" His normally deep voice squeaked at the end, and she struggled to keep a straight face. Twitter was turning out to be need to know information. Who knew?  
   Almost reflexively, he thought about that day. The angel caught the thread of his thoughts and followed them to the time/place he needed.  
   When the angelic being had its location in the mists of Time, it wavered erratically. The image before Avi shifted and leapt from the ordinary-looking woman, to an ephemeral, apparently genderless being of light and sound. The effect was so abrupt and chaotic that it made him ill to look upon. He was forced to look away.   
   The vessel grew sad. She knew that he would, and must, forget her. The angel/vessel duality would remain fixed in his subconscious mind, so he would not think to question their strange speech pattern. Anything else would be lost to the ether, once his gaze returned to them.  
   The angel wiped clean the memory of the man, and the tears of the woman. Then he folded their arms within the sleeves of their vestments and waited. Slowly, the averted gaze returned to the being before him. He looked upon them with reverence, and fear. The vessel's sadness grew, but she hid it well.  
   "Who--what--are you?" It pained the vessel to hear that beloved, golden voice tremble, and the addition of the word "what".  
   "We are an agent of the Lord, sent to earth for your protection. You call us Guardian Angels."  
   His forehead puckered. "I didn't know people could see their Guardian Angel."  
   The vessel longed to smooth his brow. She gripped her forearm tightly within the wide sleeves to prevent such folly. The angel was not so emotionally moved.       
   "You require _proof_ of what we are?" Its voice was jarring, discordant. There was a bell-clear voice, sharp with reproof; under it was a deeper contralto, rife with humor (gallows humor, did he but know).  
   In the face of the higher overtone of disapproval, he feared the wrath of the entity before him.  
   "He will not proclaim doubt," it said to itself. It made a gesture of frustration, showing the hands formerly hidden within the voluminous sleeves.  
   His spine stiffened with surprise. There, riding the knuckle of its index finger, was the ring he'd thought lost forever! The hand it once graced lifted toward the coveted possession, but the face of the being before him halted its progress. It was at once radiant and forbidding.  
   Confused, his hand fell listlessly.  
   The clear blue eyes flashed once, like lightning, as if in irritation. When the light faded, a gentle expression had settled over its face.  
   "Give me your hand, boy." The deep, almost masculine voice no longer commanded, yet he responded as though it had.  
_:See? You catch more flies with honey than vinegar.:_  
   The angel was unmoved by her quaint catechism.  
   The woman removed the man's ring from her thickest finger. She resisted the urge to put it on his finger, for that would too closely mimic an act she had forsaken. Instead, she placed it in his palm. She did indulge in prolonged contact; closing his fingers over the ring and warming the chilled digits briefly between her hands. She warded off feelings of intimacy by replaying the end of "Fern Gully" in her mind.  
   Reluctantly, she released his hand.  
   As though unable to believe he possessed his ring once more, Avi opened his hand and stared at it.  
   "Well?" The impatient voice was the higher, yet oddly masculine component of her two-tone range. The eyes flashed bright blue. "Put it on. We have much to discuss."  
   Thus the magic of the moment was dispelled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you don't get why she laughed when he said "Who are you?" then you may not have played Skyrim. That's fine, but now you know where her mind was.


	2. A day in the life of a Guardian Angel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We meet the other members of the band. How will they react to his angel?

When Avi woke the next morning, he was momentarily shocked to see a wispy woman standing next to his bed. Her countenance was ordinary, but her gown--robe--was not.  
   He mumbled "I thought angels wore all white."  
   "It lives," she quipped dryly, avoiding mention of the robes she designed herself.  
   Despite her tone of voice, she was quick to bring him a tray of food.  
   "I do not know what you like to eat for breakfast, aside from bananas. We brought you a little of everything." It was arranged neatly, and there was indeed a wide variety. Great care was taken with the banana, the only breakfast-type food she'd ever seen him eat. She knew that he disliked the "bad part" of the banana, so all of the stringy ribs had been discarded, along with the peel and the brown bit on the end.  
   He took note of the precision and forethought that went into something as simple as breakfast.  
   She spoke into the silence, nervous and eager to please. "You are not expected to eat it all, of course."  
   He looked up, too quickly for her polite mask to fall into place. The bright blue light flashed in her eyes, and the rounded features settled into an expression of angelic courtesy.  
   Nettled for no reason he could name, he asked if all Guardian Angels brought their charges breakfast in bed.  
   Answering annoyance flashed in its eyes, but as ever, the woman intervened.  
   "One should begin the day on the right foot, else one risks tripping."  
   It felt like she was quoting someone, but he'd never heard that particular truism before.  
   In truth, she'd made it up on the spot. Aside from being an artist, she had also been a writer. Her works had never been published, else she would never have chosen to become a Vessel.  
   Having placated both angel and man, the woman relaxed and watched the mortal eat. Ostensibly, she was learning his food preferences, but it gave her a rare opportunity to observe this fascinating person at close range.  
   The closest she'd ever come as a human had been balcony seats at one of their concerts. He was just as untouchable now, three scant feet away, as he had been on that stage; though for different reasons.  
   His hands, as they manipulated fork and knife, were as graceful as they were when he was lost in a melody. Something as mundane as filling one's stomach should not resemble a ballet. 'Twas unfair to the fairer sex!  
   The plate was half empty when she took up his brush. He continued to eat, but kept a wary eye on them. They perched where his torso had so recently rested.  
   He turned to look behind him, but they firmly (and with surprising strength) turned him back round.  
   "Eat," they commanded.  
   "What are you doing?" He asked, twisting again.  
   They sighed. "We do not beat people with brushes. Eat, and we shall tend your mane."  
   They would brook no argument. She knew her way around long hair, no matter which way the body was turned. If he refused to eat, so be it, but he would be properly coifed while his stomach growled. He laughed when they said as much.  
   "We begin with the ends furthest from your mouth. It is hoped that your belly will be full by the time we reach your scalp."  
   The logic of it, and the time it saved, finally percolated in his sleep-fogged skull.  
   As it turned out, he did finish everything on the plate, and before the brush reached his shoulders. He set it aside with the clack of ceramic on wood, and gave himself over to her ministrations.  
   It had been a while since someone other than a professional stylist brushed his hair, and even longer since such care was taken with it. He didn't know how she managed, but he barely felt the brush strokes.  
   She had to keep a tight rein on her emotions. The angel was a great help, though even he could not fully dampen the joy she felt, running the bristles through silken locks. Her touch was infinitely gentle upon the brown-black strands. She grasped handfuls of it above the brush, lest it tug painfully on his scalp. With every bounce of her fist, she knew she'd spared him unnecessary pain.  
   After all, was that not her duty?  
   When she reached his roots, it took even greater willpower to keep from running her fingers through the fine waves. She could see his skin through the curtain of hair, which made him seem somehow more vulnerable. He did not have the protection that her own thick mass of bronze offered.  
   He tilted his head back and made a happy sound. The brush massaged his scalp; it tingled with every pass over sensitive skin. For an angel, she really knew her way around hair! His head lolled back until it rested on her ample bosom, not that he noticed.  
   Had she been mortal, her voice would have cracked when she asked "How will you wear your hair today? Shall I braid it, or will you stick with the usual?"  
   She couldn't know how he wore his hair, because she wasn't entirely certain WHEN she was, in his timeline. She had never seen his hair braided, but perhaps 'twas only because he'd never learned how.  
   He dragged his head upright, looked over his shoulder, and shrugged. "If you can braid it, go ahead. I don't think we're being filmed today."  
   Translation: No one was likely to notice his hair today, so it didn't much matter what she did with it, as long as it was neat. It stung a little, but it was also a relief.  
   She brushed his hair straight back, separated it into thirds, and carefully wove them into the tightest braid he could comfortably wear for an entire day. A headache would impede his work, which was the opposite of her job.  
   The task complete, they rose and opened the suitcase he had yet to unpack. "What will you wear today? Black slacks, of course, but which shirt do you wish?"  
   He looked at her strangely. "How do you know I usually wear black pants?"  
   She covered her gaffe wonderfully, to her mind. She gestured to the open suitcase. "I see naught but black slacks."  
   He relaxed against the pillows, hands laced behind his head. "That's not true," he argued, a smile playing about his lips.  
   "Oh?" They inquired archly.  
   "Nope." He swung his feet to the floor and stood, from relaxed lion to bounding gazelle in a flash. She hastily averted her eyes, in case he slept solely in a night shirt. He laughed as the bathroom door closed.  
   She tried not to listen to his morning ablutions, searching instead for pants in any color besides basic black. She found none. Not even a dark blue, or grey.  
   When the bathroom door opened, they were perched on the freshly made bed, next to a randomly chosen outfit. They were carefully looking at a poster on the wall. Without preamble, they informed him that angels could not lie.  
   "Pardon?"  
   "We cannot lie. There are no slacks in colors other than black in your suitcase."  
   He grinned. "It's true enough that all of my pants are black, but," he paused with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. He swept the outfit into his arms and nodded at the pants they'd selected. "These are jeans."  
   He ducked back into the bathroom before they could throw anything at him, chuckling to himself.  
   In truth, 'twas only the angel who was vexed, and angels did not hurl objects about like primates. The vessel giggled quietly, trying not to let on that it was as much at the angel's discomfiture as Avi's deliberate word play.  
    _:I did warn you,:_ was all she would say on the matter.

   It was true, the girl had warned him that the man they were being sent to protect had a unique sense of humor. He supposed she had been Chosen for a reason.  
   Looking back, he recalled his disbelief. Not that he ever questioned Orders, but when he'd laid eyes on the short, curvy woman, he'd had serious misgivings. She was no warrior!  
   He was assured that humanity as a whole had the capacity for barbarism. Anyone could be trained to fight, He had pointed out patiently. Vessels were Chosen for their compatibility with the one they were to protect.  
   In the short time they'd been Joined, she had demonstrated knowledge of her patron's likes and dislikes, _and_ negotiated a truce between Angel and Man.  
   It was a promising beginning, but experience had taught him caution where mortals were concerned.

   When Avi left the bathroom, the vessel was relieved to see that he did indeed sleep in more than a shirt. She would continue to look away, out of a strong sense of propriety, but her mind was eased considerably.  
   "So, what is on the agenda for today?"  
   He bent to put away the sleepwear, and she cursed her choice of clothing. She'd forgotten just how snugly denim hugged an athletic man's buttocks. She forcibly tore her gaze away from the tantalizing sight and thrust her arms into her sleeves. She gripped her arms so hard it would have caused pain, had she a solid form.  
   Fortunately, she was only an astral projection, with limited ability to make contact with the physical plane. That she used her abilities to complete mundane tasks grated on the angel's nerves, but she paid little heed. She was here for Avi, and 'twas his needs she would cater to.  
   "I think we're in the studio today. After that, I'd have to ask Esther."  
   He stuffed his wallet and keys in his pockets. She tried not to think about how little room was left for either, focusing on that poster again. It was far less distracting.  
   He went into the kitchen with the breakfast tray and disposed of the detritus accordingly. "Would it sound trite if I said you cook like an angel?"  
   She laughed merrily. The angel in question would have rolled his eyes, had he bothered to take control of their astral avatar.  
   Kevin wandered out of his room, rumpled and half awake. He yawned hugely. When he saw his roommate awake, dressed, and fed, he stopped and blinked. He blinked again, but there stood his typically jetlagged buddy, fresh as a daisy.  
   "What are you doing up, man? You actually look...  _happy_ to be awake!"  
   She chuckled. It was handy having an angel to put you forcibly to sleep! Avi glanced sideways at her, then at Kevin. He didn't seem keen on teasing him about having a female overnight guest, thank God! Maybe it was too early in the morning.  
   "Just excited, that's all."  
   His eyes flicked her way again, but Kevin wasn't taking the bait. In fact, he was carefully Not Looking at her. The boys had agreed early on that they would respect each other's privacy, but he could at  _least_ say hello!  
   They took a step behind him, and to one side, the traditional placement of a servant--or a wife, in certain cultures. "Introductions are unnecessary. We are not to be seen or heard. Please, continue as though we were not here at all."  
   It didn't sit well with him, but Kevin took the proclamation in stride. He shuffled into the kitchen and fixed his own breakfast. True to their word, they moved whenever they would be an inconvenience, never straying far from their patron.  
   Seeing how well his best friend was handling the strange addition to their household, Avi leaned against the fridge and chatted amiably. He, too, moved when necessary. Except for a readjustment here and there if something looked close to falling, he could almost forget that he had a Guardian Angel.  
   The boys sat at the table. Avi gestured to the chair next to his, but his angel remained standing.  
   "We do not tire."  
   He shrugged and pulled out his phone, from who-knew-where.  
   While the musicians ate, and/or checked their phones, the angel and its vessel sort of... zoned out. If she'd been paying attention to anything at all, she would have likened it to turning off the screen of a mobile device: You still got notifications, but it saved power for when you needed it.  
   When his chair scraped back, they stepped with it automatically. The metaphorical screen was powered up. One of them must have arranged for an Uber, because they piled into it as soon as Kevin was dressed.  
   The heavenly host was stuck in the middle, but only the angel minded the close quarters.  
    _:Say, what do we do if there's a full cab?:_ she asked.  
    _:It gets very uncomfortable,:_ was all he would say.  
   They disembarked at the studio. The vessel had to suppress a wave of fangirl glee. She was going to see where the magic happened!  
    _:No one will ever know you were here,:_ the angel pointed out ruthlessly.  
    _:I will,:_ she replied. _:I don't care about being seen, I care about the act of witnessing greatness.:_  
_:That is a very good thing,:_ he stated dryly. If they had been two separate physical forms, she'd have been tempted to slap his arm, angel or not.  
    _:Would you_ please  _just let me enjoy this? 'Tis a small perk of a dangerous job, so hush!:_  
   He was unable to argue with her reasoning. The frequency of her unarguable logic was becoming irritating.  
   The trio--err quartet--met up with the rest of the band in the waiting area outside the recording studio. The angelic vessel retained its place behind and to one side of him. They were amazed at the backslapping hugs all around.  
_:Didn't they just see each other_  yesterday?: She was unsure which of them posed the question, because she was just as baffled by their enthusiasm as the angel! It was as endearing as it was confusing, at least for her.  
   Avi wasn't the first in the booth, so they followed him into the control room. She didn't know how much had been recorded on tour, what they were recording, or even what  _year_ it was, so she waited for the first strains of music with acute anticipation.  
   She wasn't disappointed to hear a song she already knew. As a matter of fact, it was one of her favorites. She tapped her foot beneath the robe, making a mental note that angelic time travel was another thing Supernatural got right.  
   Mitchi's solo, heard in close quarters, sent shivers down her spine. She loved all of their voices, albeit unequally.  
   Avi watched his Guardian Angel surreptitiously. He saw the way she smiled, the wiggling of the robes at her feet, and the tiny tremor when soprano gold rose around them. He noted absently that she wasn't the only one who got a thrill out of the solo.  
   That was part of the magic, you see: They each valued the skills of their friends. They praised those skills often. Everyone, as they say, felt the love.  
   She smiled just as much, no matter who was in the booth, which pleased him. It told him that although she was here for him, she appreciated his friends.  
   When it was his turn, they followed him as far as the door of the booth. Fear of breaking sensitive sound equipment stayed her feet; fear of being recorded stopped his.  
   Avi turned back, but they shooed him in. They pointed first to their eyes, then to the control room. He nodded understanding and walked confidently into the soundproof room.  
  _:I'm gonna need to sit for this.:_  
_:Why?:_  
_:Not sure my knees will hold me up,:_ she confessed.  
   He sighed. _:Then let me control your body while--:_ It was too late. She dropped into the nearest unoccupied chair as the Bassman's voice seemed to melt her very bones.  
    _:You do not_ have _bones,:_ he reminded her.  
    _:This. This right here is my personal heaven.:_ She sighed happily.  
  _:Useless!:_ he spat.  
    _:Fangirl,:_ she snapped. Her "voice" lashed at him with the force of a whip. _:I am all that remains of a lonely,_  single _fangirl who wanted nothing but this. Let me enjoy it while I can! Who_  knows _what I'll have to fight off in the future?!_ I _don't!:_  
   He relented, satisfied that she knew where things stood. He could not afford for her to fall in love. It would surely place all of their lives in jeopardy if she did.

   But if that was his goal, he had already failed.


	3. Chipotle and Close Quarters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We meet some very extraordinary people, and Avi's angel pushes her own boundaries.

The vessel sat, enraptured, too caught up in the music to move a single toe. She must've heard the song hundreds of times, but the setting made it feel more intimate than it was. The other people fell away, aside from knowing where everyone was. She didn't fancy being someone's cushion!  
   He smiled when he sang. She knew this. He even managed to smile when he _whistled_ , though she'd no idea _how_.  
   Knowing because you saw it on a screen, or from the club section of a packed arena, is not the same as seeing it from less than a dozen feet away. Though she knew he'd always done so, the close proximity made it feel like he was smiling at _her_.  
   She sighed, bittersweet. She knew better. She was too old not to. But the illusion, the fantasy was, as always, a pleasant escape from reality.  
   All too soon, it was over. It was  _not_ her imagination that his eyes sought them out (properly standing, by now); or that he seemed to relax when he found them. He walked toward them, and they placidly strolled toward him (on shaking knees held up by angelic power alone).  
   "You did well," they said, smiling benevolently.  
   He smiled in his proud, boyishly happy way. "Thanks!"  
   The producer clapped him on the back. "Thank _you!_ You guys did great today! Let me take you out to lunch, my treat!"  
   The angel cringed. _:Remember your question about packed cabs? We may yet see.:_  
  _:Nah,:_ she assured him. _:They'll take a van, with six people._  
_:Or, um, a limo..?:_ They eyed the modest car dubiously. _:Well, if there isn't space, we can always sit on the floor,:_ she offered.  
   This was no stretch limousine, or Hummer limo. It was simply an elongated sedan. She hoped there would be sufficient leg room to avoid being trod on.  
   In the end, they opted to sit with the driver.  
   While Avi was distracted by the band's jostling for position, they simply phased through the door. It would be wasteful to spend energy opening a door, when the only person who could see them was looking the other way.  
   However, apparently the driver  _could_ see them. Its jaw hung open, disbelief stamped across its muzzle.  
  _:Uh, what's that? And why isn't anyone back there freaking out?:_  
   The angel soothed her fears before answering. _:To them, he looks human. You are experiencing the world through both of our senses._ _This_ _is his true form.:_  
   Trying her best to be polite, she held out a hand. "Hi. I'm Avi's bodyguard."  
   The angel hung back, unwilling to reveal his presence. There were plenty of creatures capable of phasing through solid objects.  
   The driver slowly--cautiously, she realized--reached out and engulfed her hand in one massive paw. _He_ was afraid of _her?_  
  _:Trolls fear the intangible.:_  
_:A troll?_ _COOL!_   _Can they really regenerate? That'd come in handy if he ever got in an accident. He'd be good at rescuing trapped passengers!:_  
   The angel hadn't thought about it that way.  
   She beamed brightly up at the driver, who smiled tentatively back. He released her hand when the producer tapped the divider.  
   When the tinted window was down, she reached through to tap Avi's shoulder. He spun around, startled. The driver visibly suppressed laughter.  
   "Where to, sir?" He asked, a twinkle in his eye.  
   "We've agreed on Chipotle," the producer said.  
   "Now, why am I not surprised?" She threw him a wink before turning to face the front.  
   When the window was up, the driver whispered "Who else can see you?" He easily maneuvered the big car into LA's rush hour traffic.  
   The angel urged caution; unnecessarily, to her mind.  
   "I don't know," she answered honestly.  
_:As if you could answer any other way?:_  
_:Hush, you!!:_  
   "May I ask  _what_ you are?" He risked a sideways glance at a stoplight.  
   "If I told you, I'd have to kill you." She softened the old spy movie line with a smirk.  
   He looked surprised, wary, and dubious, all at once. He was, after all, a Troll. "You can do that?"  
  _:Actually, I don't know. Can we?:_  
_:Answer first, and then I will tell you.:_ She understood. With her doing the talking, he didn't have to tell  _his_ truth. And for her, the truth was "I don't know, probably."  
   The driver chuckled.  
   "Why? You don't want to die, do you?" A shadow passed over his craggy features.  
   "Aw, c'mon. I bet you could single-handedly pull an entire family out of a crumpled minivan!" She was blatantly flattering his surprisingly fragile ego.  
   "Now why would I want to do that?" He snarled, baring his fangs at the car ahead of them.  
   "Because it would get your...employer to his destination faster than waiting for rescue?" She suggested, undaunted by the terrifying display.  
   He laughed again, which seemed to surprise even him. He pulled into the Chipotle parking lot and smiled down at her. "I like you. What did you say your name was?"  
   She twinkled mischievously up at him. "I didn't." They phased out of the car before their patron could disembark, but they could see the troll shaking his head and chortling.  
  _:I think you've made a friend.:_  
_:Better a friend than an enemy,:_ she pointed out. As usual, her logic won out. It made his snarky comment seem petty and unreasonable. He truly disliked when a human knew better than him.  
    _:Only in matters of the heart. Once the fighting starts, I defer to you.:_  
   She did not ask again whether they could kill a troll. She no longer wished to know.

   They all piled into a booth, steaming bowls and plates before them. Avi worried about his Guardian Angel being in the way, as crowded as Chipotle always was, but he needn't have concerned himself.  
   They leapt, light as air (for they were made of little else but light and air), onto the narrow backrest. It looked like something out of an animé, he thought. They stood behind him, balanced like a feather. He craned his neck to look up at them.  
   They bent and pressed a single fingertip to his forehead. That small point of contact pushed his chin toward his chest, but not before he got a glimpse of hers.  
   They ghosted upright behind him, but that brief moment haunted him throughout lunch. For a being of light and sound, she'd looked very... firm...  
   He had to be nudged with a silver-shod foot frequently, because he missed his name being called.  
   When the group showed signs of leaving, a tiny tot of no more than four or five years tapped shyly on his leg.  
   "Huh? Oh, hello!"  
   The child waved, then thrust a pad of colored construction paper and much-abused box of crayons at him.  
   "You want me to draw you a picture?" he asked.  
   The boy stuck a finger in his mouth, crayon and all, eyes watering dangerously.  
   Struck with inspiration, they stepped down to his thigh and grasped his wrists. They shook the crayon and paper gently onto the table.  
   "You want drawing?" She made his hands say, molding her hands to the backs of his.  
   The little boy brightened, tears forgotten. "No! No! I want you (plural) to sign paper!" He signed back, eyes dancing and hands shaking.  
   "He wants your autographs," she informed the startled man behind her. It was then that they realized where her buttocks hovered. Without thinking overmuch, they dropped to sit sideways on his lap, facing the child.  
   "Um, dude?"  
   Avi looked over her puffed sleeve to address Scott. "Yeah?"  
   "Not that I'm complaining, but since when do you speak sign language?"  
   He hooked his chin on her shoulder. "Since now, I guess. He wants our autographs."  
   While the "girls" exclaimed over how cute he was, and everyone (even the producer) drew him pictures with their names on it, the boy looked at her. Not Avi, _her!_ She asked if children could see angels.  
_:Of course they can.:_  
   She sighed. _:I believe that falls under 'need to know information'.:_  
   Using her own hands, she asked the boy what his name was.  
   "Peter," he fingerspelled. "You angel?"  
   She beamed down at him, light from the window illuminating the semitransparent wings she stretched above her head. That was all the answer he needed.  
   "His name is Peter," she told Avi. He promptly scrawled the name beside the bass clefs he was drawing.  
   Kevin saw over her shoulder, and added the name to his signature and inspirational message. He told the others, who wrote it next to kittens, cacti, and whatever Scotty was drawing.  
   A harried-looking woman materialized out of the crowd and scooped Peter into her arms. "I'm so sorry," she started to say.  
   Pentatonix (and their music producer) handed her the drawings, complete with autographs, along with the box of crayons and pad of paper. These were full page creations, just for her son! Her mouth dropped open in amazement.  
   The vessel snatched up Avi's hands, before mother and son could leave. "How you know--" she almost said "them", but caught it in time. "Us? Videos?"  
   He nodded so hard his mother nearly lost her grip on him. "They always look happy! He," pointing at Kevin, "make funny faces. He," meaning Avi, "dance well. And she very pretty."  
   She translated for Avi, who repeated it without realizing he'd done so.  
   "You watch Superfruit?" She asked. Avi didn't know to raise his eyebrows for a question, but Peter was watching her face anyway.  
   He shook his head. "Mom say no. Bad words."  
   She laughed when she translated that one, and everyone laughed when Avi relayed it.  
   Peter's mother shook his arm to get his attention, signed "We need go."  
   His crestfallen wave goodbye needed no translation, so she dropped Avi's hands and rose to stand beside the booth. They would sit on their patron's lap only as long as strictly necessary. Neither had missed the suspicious bulge, and neither were comfortable with it.  
   "Come, we believe you were leaving?" He knew that tone of voice by now, knew it was useless to argue. He slid out of the booth and followed them outside. The others were not far behind.  
   Neither patron nor Guardians broached the subject of lap sitting, but two out of the three were thinking about it.


	4. Kung Fu Avi and Supernatural

Avi checked his messages, to see what Esther had on the agenda for the rest of the day. The only thing he saw was some party he didn't feel like going to. He dutifully passed it on to the others, though. Kirstin wanted to stay home with her new puppy, but Scott and Mitchi were down.  
   "We could watch Supernatural, if you do not feel like going," the angel/vessel suggested. "There is much they get right. It could be educational."  
   "Hey, yeah! Yo Kev, you up for Netflix and chill?"  
   Mitch choked, Scott snickered, and Kevin spluttered. Only Kirstie, Avi, and the angel didn't seem to know what was so funny.  
   The vessel coughed, leaned forward to whisper in his ear. "That does not mean what you think it means."  
   "What..?" He asked.  
   She smirked, since he was not looking at her. "It is the modern way of asking if a person wants to come up for a cup of coffee."  
   Avi turned a hilarious shade of red, and Kevin said he'd rather go to the party.  
   When they were home, and Kevin was getting ready, his Guardian Angel asked how he wanted to watch Supernatural.  
   "What do you mean?"  
   "Well, the first episode is nonnegotiable. You won't understand anything about the boys or their dad without it. After that, you have three options: you can marathon the series, which takes weeks; especially with your busy schedule. You can watch pertinent episodes. Or you can skip straight to the bit about angels.  
   "Personally, I'd opt for the second choice. You can always go back and watch the episodes that didn't affect the main plot, because those are some of the most fun ones." She shook her head, smiling at a memory Avi did not share. "Prank wars..."  
   "I could save those for long commutes. That way, if the signal gets dropped, I don't miss a plot point."  
   "Right, exactly! So turn on episode 1 (not Star Wars) and let's get our Supernatural on!" They sat on the couch next to him, legs tucked demurely to one side.  
   Had they been human, this would have resulted in a slight lean toward Avi. Since they were not restricted by joints or muscles, their posture remained erect. It was rather unsettling to behold. He privately thought it gave them an eerie, boneless look.  
   She knew where the jump scares were, so they weren't surprised. Avi, however, was a different story. His arms flew out, and one hand would have struck their chest, if they had chosen to be corporeal; but as it has been said, she knew ahead of time.  
   He turned slightly green at this reminder of her inhumanity.  
   To avoid further embarrassment, he lay his arms along the back of the sofa, in the vain hope that his startlement would be less evident.  
    _:Does he really think we cannot sense the jolts through his arms, and the couch? That we do not hear his knuckles strike the wall behind our very head?:_  
_:Leave the poor guy some pride. Here's a lesson in humanity: It is considered polite to ignore the faux pas of others. If humans, particularly men, have the illusion that nobody saw it, their fragile egos remain intact.:  
_ _Like I did earlier for you,_ she added where he could not hear.  
   Hours later, he rolled his head their way. "How much of that is true?"  
   She wasn't sure he'd like their answer. "Bits and pieces are wrong, but overall, most of it is real. When we reach wendigos and whatnot, I'm not sure what will be true or not, but the demon stuff... Yeah..." The angel let her answer, because he agreed with her assessment of his readiness.  
   His face, after learning that demons were real, broke her heart. The angel had a different observation. "What on earth did you think we were Sent to protect you from? Wolves?"  
   His eyes shimmered with suspicious moisture. "Can you? Can you really guarantee my safety?"  
   They stood up abruptly. "If it will ease your mind, we can teach you to defend yourself."  
   He stood, more slowly. "So, what, you want me to throw a punch at you?"  
   "That would serve no purpose. You cannot hit us. Besides, that is merely a movie device designed to--"  
   His fist struck empty air, left in their wake. They grabbed his arm and twisted it behind his back, just shy of the point of pain. One handed. They immediately released him.  
   "It is pointless to test us, boy."  
   He shook his head doggedly. "Shows me what you've got. You're supposed to protect me from those _things_ , so let's see it!"  
   He tried a kick, but they swept his poorly-planted leg out from under him before his foot could connect. Then they  _sat_ on him! The worst part was, they were so unbelievably  _fast_ that they  _guided_ his fall to the ground! He barely felt the impact, or the weight of the celestial being bearing him to the ground. He simply could not get up.  
   "This is the point of those silly 'try to hit me' scenes." They stared down at him dispassionately. The pendulous breasts did not heave with exertion, but they hung a scant foot from his nose.  
   "Um..."  
   "They want the audience to see how badass the teacher is; what the student could become. _But_ ," they said, pushing away from him, "you will never be a match for an angel." It was not bragging. 'Twas said with cold certainty.  
   "Oh." He didn't know whether to be disappointed or relieved.  
   They hauled him to his feet effortlessly, the grip on his wrists firm, yet light as air. They released him immediately, arms crossed within sleeves.  
   "We were thinking a simple form, with a blade, which should cover you on all sides. Have you a bit of plastic or wood that approximates the heft and balance of your blade?"  
   He started. "How do you know I have a knife?"  
   "We have seen it. It was a gift from your mother, yes?"  
   A chill shot down his spine.  
   "You forget whom you address, boy. Have you a bit of wood, or not?"  
   He shook his head, too stunned to speak. He did often forget she wasn't a woman with superpowers, but an agent of the Lord. "Why can't I just use my knife? It's not like I'd hit you. You've made that abundantly clear!"  
   "'Tis not our own nonexistent hides we are worried about."  
   "Oh. Well, can you, I dunno, peace bind it or something?"  
    _:Good question. Can you do it? Human peace binding changes the balance and handling--geez, sounds more like a car than a knife!:_  
   The angel sighed. :I'll just have to make a duplicate with no bladed edge.:  
   They vanished and reappeared in his bedroom. He found the knife easily, and slid it into their wrist sheath. With one hand on the original in the left sleeve, and the other on an empty slot in the opposite sheath, he created a dull version. The handle, length, and weight were identical.  
    _:Now, we make it look good.:_  
_:Dude,_  that _looked good!:_  
_:Perhaps, but all the action was hidden. I always wanted to try my hand at human "magic".:_  
   She laughed. _:I dated a magician for a while. My memories of his tricks are at your disposal.:_  
_:Of course they are.:_  
   She rolled her eyes.  
   They manifested in front of Avi.  
   "Your blade," they said, a twinkle in their eye. The dagger flicked into their left hand. They offered it to him, hilt first.  
   Before he could touch the serrated weapon, it was whisked back into their sleeve. The move ended with both arms crossed within voluminous folds.  
   "Well? Are you going to make it safe, or not?" He sounded more impatient than irate.  
   "As you wish." They bowed rather mockingly before presenting him with the doppeldagger from the sheath on the right in an overly showy gesture.  
   He sort of... squawked, when he saw his mother's blade apparently smelted and reformed.  
   "Worry not, we know its proper shape." This was, of course, because its proper shape rested against their forearm.  
   "You'd better!" he croaked.  
   Without bothering to reply, their own blade appeared in their hands. It dwarfed her stunted fingers, so he shrank it to the size of a shortsword with ill grace.  
   "Do not attack us. Mirror our motions."  
   He backed carefully around the coffee table, to give himself room. They responded by negligently waving a hand, which shoved all the furniture neatly against the walls. Nary so much as a paper moved from its place atop a table.  
   He was, reluctantly, impressed.  
   They swept their sword down in a wide arc, and waited. He remembered that he was supposed to be doing what they did, after an uncomfortable (for him) pause.  
   He arced his blade down, but they adjusted the angle of it with a tap of steel and... whatever that sword was made of.  
   They resumed the sequence, correcting whenever necessary. If she ever thought he was being too hard on Avi, she reminded herself that this was literally a matter of life or death.  
   The moves required near-constant turning, but they stayed in front of him no matter which way they all turned. It was as if there were an invisible bar attached to his chest that they pivoted at the end of.  
   They started him out slow, but steadily increased the pace. Faster and faster they whirled until Avi began to tire. He stumbled, would have fallen had they not righted him.  
   "Again!" he ordered.  
   Avi tried to comply, leaden limbs barely able to hold the small blade aloft.  
   The angel made to correct him, but the vessel refused. _:He needs to rest.:_  
_:No, he needs to be able to protect himself.:_  
   She ground her teeth. "Stop!" She told them both. "You've had enough for one night. What episode were we up to?"  
   The angel fought her when she took Avi's hands and gently pried the blade from stiff fingers.  
_:He will never learn if you coddle him.:_  
   She pushed Avi onto the couch. It didn't take much force to tip him back into its padded embrace.  
    _:You let your feelings for him weaken us both,:_ he said, warming up to another lecture.  
    _:GABRIEL! Open those shiny eyes of yours, ye great bloody idiot!:_ She lifted one long, elegant hand from where it dangled limply, and dropped it. There was no attempt to stop it. The dull thwap against Avi's thigh emphasized her point for her.  
_:He eats, sleeps, and breathes._ We _do not! He will_  never _be able to keep up with us! Stop trying to make him into an angel! He. Is._ Human!:  
   Stunned by both her words, and the use of his given name, Gabriel offered no further resistance.


	5. Angel's Angel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Avi sleeps through this chapter. We get a look at the relationship between vessel and angel, and Gabriel answers a question... Sort of.

Avi barely made it through one episode. They had to replay the last scene twice. The third time he nodded off, it was while they were debating which episode to watch next.  
_:He's done in.:_  
_:Yes. Should we put him to bed?:_  
_:Well, we have a bit of a problem. He's sweaty.:_ They wrinkled their nose at the mere thought of the bedsheets in the morning. In retrospect, they probably should've sent him immediately to the shower, to spare the couch.  
    _:I keep forgetting about sweat. It seems terribly inconvenient.:_  
_:True, but it keeps us--humans, I mean--from overheating. 'Tis better than wallowing in mud, or having huge radar dish ears.:_ He shuddered at the thought of a muddy bed.  
   They picked him up like a babe, despite the fact that he was taller than the vessel. They carried him into the bathroom and sat him on the toilet. It was easy enough to remove his shirt, but neither particularly looked forward to juggling a sleeping man and a tight pair of jeans.  
   "Avi? Wake up and take your pants off. You need a shower."  
   He woke with a startled snort. "What did you just say?" He asked, scratching his chest.  
   "You need a shower." She was too embarrassed to repeat the part about his pants.  
   He looked down at his bare chest. "Um, okay..."  
   They straightened, looked away from what would surely be awkward for everyone. Still, they were aware of his movements. He scooted closer to the shower/tub combo for more room to maneuver, forgetting that they didn't actually take up physical space. He stripped off pants and socks, turned the water on, and got in. She studiously avoided making use of Gabriel's other faces to watch. If he'd neglected to remove anything in his fatigue, he would figure it out on his own.  
   Not surprisingly, he sang in the shower.  
   When the singing faltered, it alerted them. They were able to guide his fall, for the second time that evening.  
   She deftly unwound the braid, while he checked to make sure it was simple fatigue.  
  _:The spinning probably didn't help his equilibrium any,:_ she observed. _:Maybe we should practice in shorter bursts, instead of trying for some sadistic world record.:_ She was more angry at herself for not stepping in sooner. Gabriel expected angelic performance immediately, but she was supposed to set limits. She was more aware of human endurance than he was.  
   Except she hadn't been human for a while now...  
   She let sleeping dragons lie, taking simple joy in washing and drying his hair. She fervently hoped he'd washed the pertinent bits before he fell back asleep, because the closest they got to drying said parts was letting the towel drape over them while they dried his chest and oh-so-long legs. They bent him over their arm to dry his back. To get his buttocks dry, they threw him over their shoulder with the towel over his backside.  
    _:If it means not having to do_ that _again, I agree! Shorter sessions, from now on!:_  
   They turned down the covers, carefully placed him on the bed sans towel, and drew the sheets over his lightly snoring form. She stoutly resisted the urge to peek. There were certain things that would damage the tentative rapport they'd built so carefully.  
   She was required to be focused, to think only of his needs. Therefore, her own needs were nonexistent. If he needed... _that_... there were plenty of fangirls in a very long line of willing and able partners!  
   She turned their back on temptation, went into what she called "standby mode" as soon as the clothing was sorted out. If anything happened behind them, Gabriel would see. He had an entire _face_ in the back of his head; not just eyes!

   As the weeks went by, Avi showed signs of improvement. As she had so baldly stated, he would never reach an angel's full potential, but his determination to try won over his Guardian Angel. Eventually.  
    _:You are too slow to praise,:_ she chided one day.  
  _:And you are too quick,:_ he countered.  
    _:Statistically speaking, we have had to correct his form less and less frequently. That, I believe, is worthy of praise.:_  
   He should really learn that she often spoke the truth, even when it was not required.  
    _:Well,:_ she pointed out, _:if you're going to argue with an Angel of the Lord, you ought to have your ducks in a row, wouldn't you say?:_  
   She got a mental image of a multifaceted being clutching its chest theatrically. _:I might actually die of a logic overload!:_  
   This was the side of her angel that she wished Avi saw more often. She knew why Gabriel acted the way he did. She couldn't fault  _his_ logic, either. If he remained aloof, didn't relax his guard around Avi, the boy wouldn't be tempted.  
   Following her train of thought, he nodded. _:I did question His choice of a comely lass. Very distracting.:_  
   She laughed, low and throaty. She was trying not to wake their patron, but she'd quite forgotten the effect husky voices had on the opposite sex.  
  _:Sure, I've got the curves, but I think the word you're looking for is "homely". And just_  who _are you afraid I'm going to distract?:_  
   She waited, hands on hips cocked at a saucy angle. She knew full well there was only one answer he could give, and preserve their working relationship. Whether 'twas full or half truth, only he would know.  
   He surprised her by saying _:Any male with eyes to see.:_  
   She let him off the hook by not asking if he included himself in that categoric statement. It wouldn't be proper. Instead, she cheekily added _:and some women.:_  
   He laughed. _:I suppose I should have specified sexuality, as well.:_  
   She smiled. _:That's why we work so well together; similar puckish humor.:_  
   He groaned. :Please _do not mention Puck! How was I supposed to know he was a writer?:_  
   She snatched a stuffed dragon and laughed into the plush until her eyes would have watered, had they the capacity. _:I should've_ known _that was you! Is it true you're Loki, too?:_  
   He looked uncomfortable, and refused to answer.  
   She practically swallowed puffs of the dragon in her attempts to remain quiet.  
   He snapped his fingers, and she was free to laugh as much as she wanted. She was in the Bubble of Silence.  
   Every depiction of Puck and Loki she'd ever seen flashed through her mind, but with his faces on their bodies. The Puck from "Gargoyles" dropped her to her knees.  
   And Gabriel could see every last one of them. The Joining was terribly inconvenient that way.  
   He was _not_ amused at the picture of the Hulk tossing him about like a ragdoll. _:That scene would have been very different, if they had known the truth.:_  
   This conjured an image of the movie Loki hurling Hulk into slabs of concrete one-handed, and they  _both_ laughed at that one!  
   A small basset hound animatedly flipping a wolf flashed across her mind.  
    _:It is a good thing we do not need to breathe!:_  
_:I'm not sure I_ could _right now!:_ she agreed.  
   When the merriment had run its course, she dared ask a question that had been on her mind from the beginning.  
  _:If Pentatonix is so important, why do we protect him, and not all of them?:_  
   She waited, unsure whether he would answer her.  
    _:We can be in more than one place at a time, should we need to. If I couldn't protect five people, what kind of archangel would I be?:_  
   She appreciated the Black Butler reference, noted his use of contractions to do so.  
    _:But why him?:_ she asked again.  
   He thought for a while, debating what, if anything, he could tell her. The only answer he would--or could--give her was this:  
  _:Because he wants a dragon.:_


	6. A Hike Through Pixie Woods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cave Trolls, and pixies, and dragons, oh my!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's an extra long chapter. Merry Christmas, Happy Kwanzaa, Yuletide, Solstice, or Hanukkah!

Avi wanted to go hiking, but they'd refused until he had mastered the self-defense kata, within reason. It was a brisk day when they finally deemed him ready. There was a waterfall that he swore looked like it belonged in Tolkien, and he wanted to see it for himself.  
   The day began uneventfully. They hiked halfway to the waterfall before stopping at a lovely clearing by the water. They sat side by side on a large, mostly flat rock, and he asked for one of the protein bars she carried.  
   "I still say a fanny pack wouldn't kill you on the trail." All the same, they withdrew one from the small pouch at their waist and handed it over.  
   "Do you like being an angel?" He asked out of the blue.  
   She resisted the urge to correct him, because he wasn't supposed to remember the vessel.  
  _:Well? He asked you a question.:_  
_:I think he would prefer a more... human assessment.:_  
_:Only him?:_  
   Gabriel refused to answer.  
   "It's very..." She searched for adjectives that would satisfy both man angel, but only two came to mind: "challenging and fulfilling."  
   Neither male seemed to like her answer.  
   "Well, what's it _like_?" Avi pressed.  
   She laughed without humor. "It's like being a Paladin, with a nun in your head."  
   Gabriel choked. _:A_  what?! _How am I a_  nun?!:  
    _:Do you not encourage chastity at every turn?:_  
   He started half a dozen sentences, but none made any sense, so she ignored him.  
   "Every word I say has to be approved," she finished.  
   "Wow, that sounds rough."  
   She couldn't resist quoting one of his tweets. Since she very much doubted he'd written the original expression, she saw no harm in it.  
   "Nothing worth having is easy, and--" he joined her for the second half: "Nothing easy is worth having."  
   They laughed, but the tension didn't ease. Finally, he got up the nerve to ask what she'd wanted so badly.  
   She looked at him, the afternoon sun gilding his hair, and the forbidden thought leapt to the fore: _you_. But she could not say that.  
   "Purpose beyond myself."  
   For one terrifying moment, she thought he'd heard the answer she was unable to give. His eyes probed hers, attempting to see through her words.  
   Defeated, he looked away and bit savagely into the hapless protein bar.  
   "You have to understand," she continued. "Before... Well, I didn't _do_ much. I... didn't work, I just drew impossible things, and listened to music; mostly yours. I was alone, except for... animals." She cursed the blasted Angelic Restrictions for making her rethink and generalize her answer. "And, of course, my daydreams," she concluded sadly.  
   He sat up straighter. "What did you dream about?"  
   She searched his face. He seemed genuinely interested. "I dreamt of this, of course."  
   She forced herself to look away, through the trees. A doe stood frozen in the distance. Both females waited to see what he did.  
   He watched his Guardian Angel, saw how hard she tried to appear calm and unruffled. He tried for levity, though neither felt like laughing.  
   "You dreamt of hiking with a singer?"  
   Those big, sad blue eyes returned to his face. He wondered if she knew how transparent she could be.  
   "I dreamt of making a difference in the world. Of making my life _mean_ something!" Some long-held bitterness changed her eyes into brittle emerald pools.  
   As usual, strong emotions didn't last long. Her eyes flashed bright blue before softening to a placid blue-gray. She finished with less fervor. "Don't we all strive to be better? I was not content to sit idly by. He gave my life purpose. I am, quite literally, eternally grateful for that."  
   Her hands rested demurely in her lap, legs crossed to one side. He could easily picture her wearing hoop skirts and carrying a parasol.  
  _:Good answer.:_  
_:Believe it or not, Gabriel, it happens to be the truth.:_ After all, how could it be anything else?  
   They rose, in one fluid motion, and folded their hands in the safety of their sleeves. "Come, it grows late."  
   He stood, a trifle stiffly, and swung up the path. They didn't know whether he walked so fast to warm his body, or burn off the frustration of half-answered questions.  
   They were within sight of the fabled waterfall when a grizzly stepped into their path. His Guardian Angel dropped into a crouch, blade winking cruelly in their hands.  
   "Get to the water, _now!"_ they ordered.  
   A lightning lunge sent the "bear" staggering back on two legs, roaring in pain. They stepped into the gap, snapped "Water! Now!"  
   He didn't understand why they wanted him near the slick rocks, but they were fast enough to catch him if he fell. He circled warily behind the combatants, toward the dubious safety of the water.  
   They feinted, dodged, and generally kept the creature's attention on them.  
   "You defend this puny human?" The Cave Troll (as different from city trolls as monkeys from men) growled.  
   "Always," they snarled back. "We do not prey on them as you do." Their lip curled.  
   They saw Avi at the water's edge, and before he knew what they intended, they rammed him into the slow-moving water with their backside.  
Immediately, they struck the hilt against one palm, igniting electric blue flames along its length.  
   "Do not make us slay you."  
   The beast eyed the flames warily. He was hungry, and the woman with the witchy blade was small. He thought he could nab the tasty morsel in the water before she could land a blow.  
   He was wrong. Somehow, she turned the sword at a highly improbable angle and used the momentum of his charge to cleave him crown to crotch.  
   His brother roared out of the forest, a veritable juggernaut compared to the scrawny mess of bloody fur at their feet. They neatly turned the blade ninety degrees, sliced his head clean off.  
   "Others will come," the severed head warned.  
   The flaming sword dispassionately pierced one eye socket. The Guardian Angel calmly waited for the cleansing fire to do its work.  
   "No, they won't."  
   They pulled Avi from the shallow water. One hand was hastily dried with a handkerchief from the pouch, and his phone thrust into it.  
   "Where would you like to stand for your photo?" they asked, as though nothing were amiss.  
   "Wh-wh-what?" He asked, teeth chattering.  
   "You must have your photo," they explained. "Otherwise, this was all for naught." They did not indicate the bloody corpses, but their meaning was clear.  
   They turned him, clutching his phone like a lifeline, toward the waterfall.  
   "That was not a request."  
   He mechanically snapped the photo, seeing little. While his back was turned, they inserted the fiery sword into one half of the still quivering corpse, and it ceased its twitching.  
   He turned toward them, still in shock. He handed the phone back, but they put their hands in the wide sleeves.  
   "Show us the photo first."  
   He blinked once, then sneezed.  
   "The waterfall, boy! Did you get a picture of it, or not?". The eyes flashed neon blue with annoyance.  
   "Oh, right. Uh, I guess."  
   They scowled. "Show us."  
   Answering annoyance flared at last. He jabbed at the screen with unnecessary force to pull up the image. He flipped the phone over so they could see.  
   "Not good enough," they said. In a softer voice, she added "It lacks your personal flair. You'll want to remember this place forever."  
   He glanced at the bloody corpses behind her pointedly.  
   "The waterfall is not to blame for the trolls. Remember the beauty, not the beasts."  
   She took him by the shoulders, made him face the falling water again. He shivered. They wrapped their arms around his midsection and radiated warmth.  
   It was strange, that warmth. He could see the arms, but not feel their pressure. Could they not be warm and solid at the same time?  
   "The photo?" they prompted.  
   In a dreamlike state, he lifted the phone. He saw the wonder of nature through a pleasant filter of angelic euphoria, and the image he captured reflected that bliss.  
   "Good. Now, we run."  
   The moment was shattered, just like that.  
   They let go of his waist, but retained a grip on one hand. The startling change from an ambient, glowing being to a partially solid one shook him from torpor. The hand that pulled so insistently had first burned a trail across his belt before clasping half-frozen fingers.  
   He stumbled along behind them at first, until his limbs warmed up enough to achieve an easy lope.  
   Over rocks and roots they leapt ahead of him, graceful as a gazelle. He didn't know why they bothered. Why not simply remain incorporeal, and phase through them?  
   Then he remembered his hands phasing through various parts of them, and understood why: They acted more human for his sake.  
   When his lope slowed to an uneven trot, they began to look for a resting place. The flat rock they used on the way uphill was already behind them, but there had been a larger clearing on the same side. There was no boulder, but the grass was dry and sun-warmed. He sprawled gratefully on his back, hands behind his head.  
   They hadn't been there long, when a tiny person landed on his foot.  
   He shot upright, knees to chest.  
   The fey creature hovered where his foot had been, unperturbed. Its--her?--head lolled sideways.  
   "You don't look like a troll slayer."  
   He pointed wordlessly to the petite lady next to him, who yawned for show. Sometimes they forgot to breathe, so a strategic yawn tended to keep people from noticing.  
   They stretched their arms overhead, noting the positions of the swarm of pixies in the trees. Knowing their love of mischief (hence the unannounced appearance they had to feign surprise at), they leaned to one side, arms still outstretched. A lovely blue butterfly wing "unrolled" as their arms tilted. Another wing unfurled as they swayed the other way.  
   Next they unwound their braids, one at a time. Short fingers threaded through the thick plaits of now waist-length hair. In the act of fluffing her bronze waves, pointed ears winked through the coarse strands.  
   They fixed the spokesfey with an unblinking stare, remembering to "breathe".  
   The pixie gaped up at her in awe. "We haven't seen one of the Wee Folk in centuries!"  
   The vessel thought both fey races were called Wee Folk, but the angel apparently knew better.  
   "We've not crossed the pond in aeons," they said carefully. They did not say directly that they were fey, nor that faerie had yet crossed the ocean. Gabriel had not flown across the ocean since biblical times (instant teleportation was great for that), and the vessel had never left the country.  
   "Why are ye here now?"  
   They gestured with consciously languid fingers to the bass in the grass. "We guard him from harm, as with the Cave Trolls. Did they trouble ye overmuch?"  
   Avi hid his confusion as best he could. His "Guardian Angel" was really a fairy? But... Why was she human size? What prevented a fairy from lying? Had she been hiding that Irish lilt the whole time, or was this the false voice..?  
   His head reeled, but he sensed that if the pixies knew she'd lied to him, their lives could be forfeit. _Unless she really is an angel..._  
   He prayed she was, though he could not say why.  
   "Aye, the Trolls plagued the entire forest, they did. Park Rangers never found the 'bears' what ate the odd hiker, so we were stuck wi' them."  
   "Lucky for the Rangers, would ye not say?"  
   The wee lass nodded. "Lucky for us you came along wi' yer flamin' sword." She eyed the man huddled at her side like a bairn. "Why DO ye protect the lad, an'way?"  
   They smiled, put an arm around him. "He is a most fine musician."  
   The fey mob erupted into exclamations of joy. "Would he play for us?" Many of them asked.  
   Without wishing to give away his identity, they lamented aloud a lack of instruments. His guitar was at home, so this was entirely true.  
   The mercurial rabble grew angry.  
    _:I don't suppose you can sing,:_ she asked.  
  _:Not without revealing my presence, but you can.:_  
   She laughed without mirth. _:Nay, I've not the talent for it.:_  
_:Only because you were limited by an imperfect body,:_ he corrected. _:You have no lungs to be burdened with asthma; no throat scarred by coughing.:_  
_:Oh.:_ She'd quite forgotten.  
   She held up a hand to forestall their outcry. "If 'tis music ye crave, ye have but to ask."  
   Silence fell abruptly in the clearing.  
   " _You_ would play for us?" The head pixie asked, awestruck.  
   She shook her bronze-capped head. "I've no instrument of my own, but I could sing for ye."  
   A ripple of excited wing fluttering shushed around them, and their leader clapped her diminutive hands with glee.  
   "Oh yes, would you?"  
   She nodded regally. "What song would ye hear, then?"  
   The tiny lass glanced mischievously at Avi. "We would hear 'Black is the Color of My True Love's Hair'."  
   When her brow clouded briefly, the fey stammered "If, erm, if 'tis no trouble, o' course!"  
   She consciously schooled her face into a mask of calm. "I believe the boy knows the song as well as I." She meant for the more practiced vocalist to sing for them, but the pixies began chanting "Duet! Duet! Duet!"  
   She sighed. _:The things I do for you, Gabe...:_  
   "Do ye feel up to singing, lad?"  
   Avi bravely sat straighter, in what she presumed to be singer's posture. Since "Angel" had never been formally trained, she copied the way he sat; as though she had lungs to fill with air.  
   The vessel had seen his video with Peter Hollens so many times that she easily slipped into Peter's part, despite her voice being deeper than his.  
   While she sang, Gabriel methodically erased the memory of the "bears" attacking them. Remembering the pixies, and singing for them, would not damage his positive attitude. It should, in fact, improve upon it. What fantasy reader wouldn't want to meet pixies?  
   They wound up singing an entire set of Celtic and mountain folk music. When Avi sneezed in the middle of an Iron and Wine song, they knew it was time to go. When the song ended, they rose with their customary fluid grace to make their farewells.  
   The pixies were so enamored that they never wanted it to end. Swords, daggers, and bows materialized out of nowhere, or so it seemed to Avi.  
   "Nay! You will ne'er leave this place! These woods have been silent far too long!"  
    _:Gabriel?:_  
_:Get him on his feet. We've got this.:_  
   Not stopping to marvel at his use of another contraction, she pulled Avi to his feet.  
   Before the pixies could fire a single arrow, they stopped Time. She dropped to her hands and knees in front of Avi. Gabriel wove an intricate illusion around them; more than ears and wings, this time. No, this time he went for sheer scale. He turned them into the biggest, toughest creature the fey feared. They appeared to fill the entire clearing.  
   He created a dragon.  
   They restarted Time a hair after they launched into the late afternoon sky, cradling Avi to their illusory scaled chest.  
   He couldn't see the ground, but he felt his heart drop into his stomach as the earth fell away.  
   "Do try not to be sick. We doubt the people below would appreciate it."  
   He laughed weakly.  
   To avoid thinking about how high they could be, he focused on the wall of scales in front of his nose. As before, there was a sense of mass, but no warmth. He could see individual scales, but could feel no heartbeat beneath them. No breath disturbed their marble perfection.  
   The trip was short, as flights go.  
   "Close your eyes. You won't want to see this."  
   After the day's events, some of which he couldn't recall, he obeyed instantly.  
   When his feet touched cool tile, his eyes shot open. He was in his bathroom.  
   His Guardian Angel, once more (or less) human, was bent over the side of the tub, running water until it was warm enough.  
   "You may wish to remove those damp clothes. We will not watch. Would you enjoy some bubbles?"  
   His mouth hung open for a moment. "Uh, I guess? I mean, if you're going to the trouble of drawing a bath, why not throw some bubbles in?"  
  _:He's babbling. Are you sure he doesn't remember the trolls? Maybe he's not okay with flying--:_  
_:Now you are the one who is babbling,:_ he chided.  
_:I worry. It's my job.:_  
   His only response was a chuckle.  
   Avi belatedly remembered he was supposed to be stripping off his wet clothes. He peeled his shirt off, followed by soggy socks and shoes. He hesitated at his waistband.  
   "Do not worry. The one who can see behind us has no desire to see your issue."  
   "My... what? And how'd you know I--?"  
   "We do have ears, boy."  
   "Oh..." His own ears burned with embarrassment. He still didn't know exactly what an "issue" was, but he wasn't about to ask again!  
   He tried to unzip his fly, but it was stuck fast.  
   What else could possibly go wrong today?


	7. Gabriel's Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Angel" is put in a very awkward position.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea what anyone's apartment looks like, nor their schedules at this point in time. This is purely guesswork.

Avi's zipper wouldn't cooperate. The shapely derrière pointed his way wasn't helping matters any, either! It wasn't like he could ask for  _help_ with his zipper!  
   Kevin! He'd see if Kev was home!  
   Luckily for him, he only had to poke his head out the door. He caught Kevin going into his room.  
   "Heyo, can you help me out?" he asked from behind the door, reluctant to expose the problem.  
   "Dude, why's your hair wet? I didn't hear the shower... Actually, when  _did_ you get home?"  
   "I, uh, fell in the river..." He shuffled his feet, cheeks flushed pink. "There was this really cool waterfall..."  
   Kevin shook his head with a grin. "Only you, man. So what's the problem?"  
   "Well, um... I think the water was cold enough to freeze my zipper shut..."  
   Kevin threw his hands up. "Whoa! Naw, man, I can't be messin' with your _fly!_ Tell ya what--why don't you try the hair dryer? That oughta warm it right up!"  
    _Trust Kevin,_ he thought. _Even when he was embarrassed, he came through with a practical solution!_ He plugged in the hair dryer, set it to low, and carefully aimed it at his tender parts.  
   "We could have helped with that."  
   He tried to ignore both the suggestion, and the suggestive pose they were in.  
   The water turned off. "Your bath is ready."  
   He didn't immediately respond. He set the hair dryer down and tried the zipper again. It was still stuck, and so was he.  
   With a heavy sigh, he admitted that he needed help.  
   With nary a word, they rose and assisted him. In the interest of expediency, they dematerialized the fabric and whisked it away.  
   "See to your bath. We will see what can be done with these."  
   He stood, stunned, for a few seconds. They calmly perched on the sink and examined his zipper. When he still didn't move, they waved a hand at the cooling water without looking up. A gentle pressure nudged him toward the tub/shower combo.  
   As he folded his long legs into the tub, he wondered if he would ever get used to this.  
  _:It appears a bit of plant life has jammed the teeth,:_ she observed.  
  _:A nun? Seriously?:_  
   She sighed, drawing a curious glance from the bass in the bath. _:We're back on that topic? Dude, I'm_  glad _you keep me on track!:_  
 _:You act like I am a saint.:_  
 _:Actually, in some cultures you_ are  _a saint.:_  
 _:Oh...:_  
   She removed the last of the aquatic weed, tossing it all in the wastebasket to avoid contaminating a different water source. They stepped down, hung the pants to dry over the shower bar, all without glancing in the tub.  
   They heard something lift from the water. _:I think he wants our attention.:_  
    _:Why do you say that?:_  
 _:He just tried to tug on our robe.:_  
   "Do you require assistance?" They asked, though one of them sincerely hoped he didn't.  
   "Your back, perhaps?" Her other half puckishly added. She could cheerfully throttle her angel sometimes!  
   Avi leapt on the pretense. "Yes, please."  
   She "jabbed" Gabriel in the side, which did nothing but convey irritation, since neither were currently corporeal.  
    _:You're playing with fire, Gabe. He's_ naked!:  
  _:So? We've washed him before.:_  
 _:Yeah, when he was_  asleep!:  
   Doing her best to hide trepidation and ire, she knelt beside the tub. _:Well, come on! I can't touch him without your--STOP LAUGHING AT ME!:_  
   Gabriel had to stop Time until he could keep a straight face.  
    _:You know this is going to get awkward. Can we_ please _just get it over with?:_  
   He joined her beside the tub, but that infernal smirk remained.  
  _:Angels cannot be infernal,:_ said the smirking saint.  
   She snorted and reached for the washcloth. He restarted Time. She was glad to have the washcloth between her hands and his lightly freckled skin.  
   "So... I'm a bit confused," Avi finally said.  
   She forced a laugh. "Most of you are."  
   He turned toward them, and she looked away. He took hold of their wrist, since it had to be corporeal to hold the washcloth.  
   "Seriously, I have questions."  
   He reached for their face, and to her surprise, Gabriel  _let_ him touch it! He turned her face toward him (since angels always have a face in every direction). She resisted, but it was two against one--and one was an angel!  
   She stared into his beloved face, fighting tears. "What would you know?"  
   "First of all, what  _are_ you?"  
   Their eyes flashed electric blue. "We will not repeat ourselves. If you cannot believe--"  
   "It's not that. I believe you're real, and I believe in God and angels, but you said you couldn't lie! How can you be a fairy _and_ an angel?"  
   "Oh, that."  
   "Yes, _that!_ " He squeezed their cheek without realizing he did so.  
   They removed his hand, but retained a light hold on it. Let him wring their hand instead!  
   "We never said we were fey. We let them make that assumption--"  
   "Based on fairy wings and pointy ears!"  
   They hastily erected the Bubble of Silence.  
   "We cannot directly tell a falsehood. This does not mean we cannot misdirect a potential foe from what we truly are. Should word get out, you would have a target on you the size of the Chrysler Building!"  
   "So you're not a dragon, either."  
   They smiled thinly. "Nay, no dragon either."  
   His other hand lifted from the water with a splish. He traced their cheek curiously. "Your skin is so strange."  
   "That is because 'tis not skin!" she said sharply.  
   His brow furrowed in confusion. She resisted the urge to smooth it. Gabriel, however, did not.  
   "This is no more skin than it was scales. Think of it as... sort of a force field. Only there is nothing solid inside of it. It is not felt unless 'tis required."  
   He still looked confused.  
   "Right, you feel my hand? You feel my face, yes?" She noted Gabriel's withdrawal from the conversation, and it made her nervous.  
   "Yes, but there is no warmth."  
   She shook her head. "Warmth is not necessary. My point is, if you had a way to touch anything else, you would find empty air. The... field sort of... tightens up where you're touching it, because you're making contact. It doesn't bother materialising where it doesn't need to. That would waste energy."  
   He tilted his head, and her hand dropped from it. "What sort of energy does an angel use?"  
   'My soul,' she could not say. So she resorted to "classified".  
   "Will it last forever?"  
   Her heart broke a little. Her eyes filled with tears he could not feel, even as they flowed over the back of his hand.  
   "No? But... You're an angel!" he protested.  
   "Guardian Angel," she corrected. "Difference is, I only need to last as long as--" but the Angelic Restrictions cut her off. Her hand flew to her throat reflexively.  
   "So you're not eternal," he concluded helpfully. His heart ached for her.  
   She shook her head. "Only eternally grateful."  
   His hand dropped to cover hers, sympathy in his eyes. His thumb fanned across what would have been her pulse, if she had one.  
   She could no more have stopped her reaction than he could have stopped a solar eclipse. Though he could not feel her skin, she could feel his. It was terribly cruel.  
   Her eyes drifted shut, and a slight tremor shook her "body". It did not last long, but it told volumes.  
   He finally understood the emotion he often saw lurking in the back of her eyes: it was anguish. What torture, to know and yet not be known!  
   He removed his other hand from her lax grip, and cupped her face with heartbreaking tenderness. There was no warmth, but neither was she cold. When his fingers whispered across her lips, she would have bolted, had she been allowed.  
  _:Surely, you_ know _where this is headed?!:_ she railed.  
    _:Yes. I imagine he will kiss us.:_  
   Her mouth dropped open. _:And you're_ okay _with that?!:_  
    _:Angels do not show physical affection. I confess, I am curious.:_  
 _:Oh, great! The boys are learning, while the girl is stuck in the middle with the feelings!:_  
   Avi's index finger ducked into her open mouth to trace her teeth. They felt the same as the rest of her: neither hard nor soft, warm nor cold.  
    _:Please! I promise not to call you a nun again!:_  
   His lips replaced his fingers, and she knew exquisite torture. One hand was trapped beneath his, cupping her own throat. The other tried to push him away, but only succeeded in tangling in tufts of chest hair.  
   He kept stroking her neck, fanning a pulse that no longer beat. His fingers plowed through the waves of burnished gold behind her ear, drawing her closer. Water dripped unheeded at their knees in a growing puddle.  
    _:I do believe he is_ licking _you,:_ Gabriel observed. He seemed shocked, and a bit intrigued.  
   "Mm," was all her drugged mind could dredge up as answer.  
   His beard was pleasantly prickly, yet also soft against her face. His lips were unbearably soft and pliant, and his tongue... Oh, the things that man could do!  
  _:Oh, he is a man now, is he?:_  
 _:You bet your feathery backside he is!:_

   Two things happened to shatter the spell, one immediately following another.  
   The long fingers that covered her shorter ones slid down her throat, over her collarbone, to cup her trembling breast. Ethereal tears overflowed as they pushed away from him, rocketing to their feet.  
   Then Kevin knocked on the door. "Yo, you almost done in there? I need to use the facilities."  
   They spun to face the door, dispelling the Bubble of Silence so he could answer.  
   "Uh, yeah, just let me rinse off the bubbles."  
   " _Bubbles?_ You've got bubbles in there? All right, but hurry up, would ya?"  
   The drain popped, and there was an awkward silence while it drained enough to run the shower.  
   They did not speak to him for the rest of the night. He wound up having to order pizza for his dinner, because they simply stood there, staring into space. When he retired to bed, they placed two fingers on his forehead and forced him to sleep.


	8. Possibilities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angel has to have the sex talk with Gabriel.

_:Okay, let me have it,:_ Gabriel said. He was as sick of the silent treatment as Avi. The only difference was, he did not sleep.  
   She calmly tidied the room, ignoring his presence as best she could.  
  _:Do you want me to apologize?:_  
   She sighed, put the last item away. _:Why?:_  
 _:Pardon?:_  
 _:Why would you apologize to me?:_  
   He was momentarily at a loss. _:Because you seem upset.:_  
   She rammed her hands into her sleeves. _:"Upset" is putting it mildly. Honestly, I feel used.:_  
   He could not fault her for feeling that way. But he did not understand it, either. _:You enjoyed it. I think we all did.:_  
 _:Yeah, 'cause_  that _sentence isn't weird enough!:_ She paced a bit, her steps soundless on the carpet. Gabriel stood still, watching her curiously.  
    _:Kissing is supposed to be private! Unless you're into having multiple partners at once, which I'm not--wasn't. I was straight meat and potatoes.:_ She stopped, would have blushed if she could. Fortunately, he hadn't caught on that those were nicknames.  
  _:It wasn't... We can't... We sort of left him hanging, you know. That's not exactly the nicest thing to do.:_  
   He smirked. _:I saw nothing "hanging".:_  
 _:OHFORPETE'SSAKE! I did_  not _need to know that, Gabriel!:_  
 _:I have been told it is a natural reaction.:_  
   She threw up her hands. _:Yeah, because you know what kissing leads to?_ Especially _naked kissing?_ Sex!:  
   If she'd hoped to shock him, she was disappointed. He knew the basics of intercourse, even if he did not/could not participate.  
    _:You_  knew _it wasn't possible! That is called leading a guy on, and it's considered rude!:_  
  _:Technically, it is possible...:_  
 _:No! We are_  not _having this discussion! I don't care_ how _curious you are, I can_ not _have sex with you in my head! Plus, I doubt I would get anything out of the ordeal.:_  
 _:You mean orgasm?:_  
 _:Okay, I am_  not _hearing this! It's like having the sex talk with my parents!: She would have clapped her hands over her ears, if it would have made a difference._  
 _:I fail to see how sex would be an ordeal,:_ he continued, dauntless.  
   She scrubbed her face in frustration. _:I am not, repeat_  not _using the energy of my immortal soul to fuel the curiosity of a couple of randy men! Not when I know just how_  much _energy it takes!:_  
   He didn't understand why it should use more energy than brushing hair, or scrubbing a back.  
    _:There is a lot of touching, if it's done right. Judging from the way he dances, I imagine there would be a lot of touching. Everywhere.:_  
   The light began to dawn. _:But surely once would not--:_  
   She laughed, but it was not a pretty sound. _:If you think we'd get away with one, you don't know men very well. Once they get a taste, they become insatiable beasts for days, weeks, or months. Very rarely, it can last for years.:_  
   Shock rolled off him in waves. _:You would be drained well before your due time!:_  
   :Exactly! _If you're that curious, why don't you find a nice female angel to try it with?:_  
   She felt sadness and regret from him. :We do not have the capacity.:  
   Chagrin gripped her tight. :I'm sorry, I didn't think. Well, next time you want to kiss somebody, my cheek is available. Please don't lead him on, okay?:  
   Gabriel looked at her strangely. At least, the face aimed her way did. :I do not know that it is the same. We do not have bodies.:  
   She rolled her eyes, stalked up to him, and kissed the cheek nearest her. :You have much to learn, dude. Kissing is as much about intent as actual contact.:  
   Gabriel touched his cheek, dumbfounded. It wasn't the same, but she was correct. He had felt something!  
   Satisfied she'd made her point, she "powered down" for the night.  
   The next morning, while they fried eggs, she warned him that things were bound to be awkward when Avi woke up.  
 _:Should we erase his memory?:_  
 _:No. He'd still be curious, and I might have to slap him next time.:_  
 _:How do you know there would be a next time?:_  
 _:If we kept erasing his memory, he'd keep kissing us--me--whoever...:_  
   Only one of them was surprised when long, hirsute arms circled their waist.  
   She slapped at his arms. "Hsst! You're going to get burned by--yeah, that." A glob of grease landed on his arm, and was quickly shaken off. They tsked at him, set the eggs aside, and turned the stove off.  
   "Let us see. Hmm, seems your hair saved you from harm. What were you thinking?"  
   His hazel eyes misted over. "I was just trying to apologize for last night."  
   "Oh, ohh come here. I'm sorry," she crooned comfortingly. The last thing she wanted was to make him cry, and anyway, she'd heard his hugs were legendary.  
  _:I do not know about legendary, but if this is a hug, I could get used to it.:_  
   She swallowed a chuckle at Gabriel's reaction to his first hug.  
   She appreciated, too, the fact that although his arms were longer than her torso was wide, Avi's arms overlapped well below her breasts.  
   He kissed their cheek in parting, but it was the kind one dispenses at a party like hors d'oeuvres.  
   They set two plates of food on the table today. Kevin was bound to feel neglected if he didn't get breakfast once in a while. Avi woke him up, and he was pleasantly surprised.  
   "You made me breakfast? Thanks!" Angel happened to be positioned behind Avi, so he assumed his best friend was thanking her. It made him happy to see them getting along.  
   While the boys ate, she marveled anew at her life--or rather, her afterlife. She still wasn't entirely sure why she had to be dead to serve as a Vessel, but it had been her choice.  
    _:You had only to ask, and I would have told you.:_  
 _:Oh.:_  
   There was a long pause.  
  _:Well?:_  
 _:I did say that you had to ask.:_  
   She ground her teeth, glad to be standing behind Avi. _:Why did I have to die first?:_  
 _:Technically, your body still lives. Your brain is "dead", because you are no longer inside that body.:_  
 _:So I'm lying in hospital somewhere? Probably not; they pull the plug if you're braindead.:_  
   He shook his great head. _:Your body still responds automatically to stimuli.:_  
 _:Okay, but why bother keeping my shell alive at all?:_  
   She got the impression he thought she was missing something obvious. _:If your body died, you would be pulled to Heaven. You are needed on Earth.:_  
   That actually made sense. _:But why don't you use the whole kit and caboodle? Why just the soul?:_  
   The episodes of Supernatural with vessels getting sores, or outright exploding, because they couldn't contain angelic energy, paraded through her mind.  
    _:Oh. Why do you need me at all, though? Your voice doesn't break windows or electronics, like it does on the show. Why don't you skip the middle woman?:_  
   A warmth flooded her, head to toe. It was approval, appreciation, and a hundred other unnameable things she'd craved in life.  
  _:Yes, little one, you can hear my Voice. He, however, cannot. We tried. You may also have noticed a certain friction between us. I needed a human perspective, preferably female.:_  
   That surprised her.  
    _:We have observed humanity for aeons. Females, in general, tend to be more compassionate. Mothers tend to be more wise, as well. You were ideal, in that you had experienced motherhood, but did not have the unfinished business that children become.:_  
   She swallowed a wave of bile at the reminder of her children. He was right: if they had lived with her, she never would have volunteered.  
  _:I suppose compassion is important for a Guardian Angel.:_  
 _:Indeed. They have broken their fast. We must depart.:_


	9. Gabriel's Education

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Angel" has to explain some things to Gabriel about human relationships.

"More songwriting sessions today?" they asked, deftly creating his man bun while he ate. It was similar to the way she'd worn her hair whe she was alive; except instead of letting the "tail" flop over the top, he preferred it curling beneath the bun. She personally disliked the feel of hair poking the back of her neck, but his hair was far softer than hers had been.  
  _:Careful, envy is a sin,:_ Gabriel teased.  
  _:Why should I be jealous? I get to play with it every day.:_ She hummed a little, happy in her work.  
   Avi reached across the table for one of the omnipresent notebooks, nearly upsetting his drink. They saved it from spilling, removed his plate, and set about washing it before Kevin woke up.  
   They returned to the table, where he was scrawling furiously. It was sheet music, which didn't surprise them. They'd all been writing, jamming, and recording ever since they'd decided to do an original album. What did surprise her was  _what_ he was jotting down.  
    _:Oh. Um... Oops. Maybe I should stick to their older songs. I'm guessing they hadn't written that part yet?:_  
   He "shrugged". _:How would I know? You're supposed to be the expert.:_  
_:Well, no fangirl can be expected to know when songs were written; especially if they're writing tons of music at once!:_  
   He didn't seem terribly concerned. _:'Tis a very minor alteration, presuming 'twas not originally his contribution.:_  
_:I suppose...:_ She wasn't altogether convinced, so she resolved to be more careful in the future--or past, as it was for her.  
  _:Wibbly wobbly, timey wimey...:_  
   "I like your hair down," Avi said unexpectedly. He seemed to have finished copying down her quantum slip-up. She'd forgotten to put it back in braids after the pixie incident, which was a shame. Now, because he said he liked it better down, it would seem petty to change it back. She compromised by putting two skinny braids at their temples, to keep it out of their face. She'd never mastered the technique in life, but when you changed your hairstyle with a thought, anything was possible.  
   "I have a question."  
   It didn't sound too serious, so they said "We may have an answer."  
   "Do you get to wear colors other than white because you're a Guardian Angel? Like, do only archangels have to wear all white, or what?"  
   They laughed, since her angelic half  _was_ an archangel! "Many of us wear colors, but when you are a being of light, it tends to look white no matter what. Put a colored ribbon in a spotlight, and all you see is the bright light."  
   "Huh. I guess I never thought about the whole 'inner light' thing..."  
   "That is because in human parlance, 'tis a metaphor. For us, it is very literal."  
   Kevin wandered out, effectively ending the discussion. He ate cereal in a trance, apparently chasing a beat of his own. He made a few notations on his own pad as ideas came to him. Then he left his bowl in the sink and went back to his room, presumably to dress for the day's jam session.  
   Avi rolled his eyes, would have gotten up to wash the bowl if his angel hadn't stopped him.  
   "Go brush your teeth. We'll clean up."  
   He gave her a one-armed hug before following orders.  
    _:Still not seeing anything legendary about his hugs.:_  
_:Dude, that wasn't the kind of hug girls swoon over. That was a half hug, if anything. I'm sure we'll see a legendary hug soon enough. Be patient.:_  
_:Did you just "soon" me? I thought you lot hated that word.:_  
   She smirked. _:And I thought you lot loved that word!:_  
    _:I would not say "love". I would say that we grow accustomed to it, as much as Dad throws the word around.:_  
   She knew _that_ well enough! Many of her prayers had resulted in the dreaded "soon".  
    _:For the record, I bought two #soon shirts. I don't hate the word either. I've had to radically accept its ambiguity, no matter who uses that word.:_  
_:Radically accept?:_ He wasn't familiar with the concept.  
_:It's a coping mechanism. I'm sure you use it all the time. It's basically the Serenity Prayer.:_  
_:Oh, that.:_  
_:Yup.:_ "And we're off!" she said to the freshly scrubbed Avi. "But then, we've always been a little off."  
   He laughed.  
_:My Gran used to say that to us.:_  
_:I know.:_  
   She rolled her eyes. _:Of course you do.:_

   The next couple of months were packed with everything from songwriting and recording, to interviews promoting their upcoming tour. They were keeping details about their new album close to the vest, talking instead about "That's Christmas to Me". It was doing well; better than the band had anticipated. They decided to include the title song in their tour, as an encore.  
   Whenever Avi needed to get his creative juices flowing, he would ask for his "stunt blade", as he was calling it, and practice. He was getting good enough that they began throwing illusory foes at him. She restricted their involvement severely, because her angelic half had developed a strange sense of humor where physical contact was concerned.  
    _:No,:_ she had to say one time. _:That is not a hug._ that _is known in wrestling lingo as a half nelson.:_  
   After a movie night that included "the Matrix", she had to laugh. _:This just looks like a game of winged Twister. Sorry dude.:_  
   He seemed to delight in putting her in awkward or embarrassing positions, and she kept trying to avoid them. It was like a twisted version of chess.  
   Avi wasn't helping matters at all. He was becoming more... familiar than she was entirely comfortable with. It was little things: a touch on the elbow or waist, more hugs than she felt were warranted, and worst of all, he'd begun dropping kisses on their face and neck.  
    _:I fail to see why that bothers you,:_ Gabriel said after the first time he kissed their neck. _:You like him.:_  
_:It's starting to feel like he thinks we're dating.:_  
   He laughed. _:You overreact. He kisses the other band members, too. What makes us different? Honestly, I think it would be more strange if he did_ not _throw us a kiss every now and then.:_  
   She dropped a fork in the drainer with more force than necessary. _:One, he kisses us more frequently than anybody else--:_  
_:Because we spend more time with him than anyone else,:_ he pointed out rationally.  
    _:Secondly, he does not, I repeat_ not _put his arms around them and kiss their necks!:_  
   He was momentarily nonplussed. _:I did not realize how complex kissing could be.:_  
_:Hugs, too. The one we just got is the kind usually reserved for... mates.:_  
   He reeled back in shock. _:Surely not! I am certain he has hugged his sister similarly.:_  
   She felt genuine sadness for her poor, disillusioned angel. _:The Devil's in the details.:_ He wasn't fond of the expression, and she knew it. She needed to shock some sense into her surprisingly naïve copilot, for her own sanity.  
    _:When you hug a sibling from behind, there is a polite distance between hips and buttocks. You don't press full-length, however briefly. And if you happen to kiss their neck, instead of their cheek, you do_ not _linger there!:_  
   He considered her words for all of ten seconds before his sense of humor rebounded. _:Maybe his sister does not shiver when he kisses her.:_  
_:I should hope_ not!:  
    _:Perhaps we should not react next time, hmm?:_  
_:Easy for_  you _to say! Maybe we should do something especially angelic, to remind him that we are off-limits.:_  
_:Are we?:_  
   She spluttered far longer than it took him to ponder the intricacies of intimacy. _:A dead woman and an angel of the Lord?!_ Yes!!!:  
    _:Interesting.:_  
_:Infuriating!:_ she shot back.  
   Her other half continued to allow these little intimacies, no matter how strenuously she objected. He saw no harm in it.  
  _:You both remain clothed,:_ he would point out.  
  _:When ye wear a dress, that doesn't mean much...:_  
_:They are robes,:_ he asserted for perhaps the fiftieth time.  
    _:Keep telling yourself that, my feathered friend.:_  
   He seemed startled the first time she called him that. _:Am I?:_  
_:What, my friend? Yeah, of course!:_  
_:Are you sure it is not simply because I can see and hear you?:_  
   She laughed, but it was a sad sound. _:Naw, I'm more picky than that.:_  
   A wave of positive emotions washed over her. He did not have the words to express his gratitude, his genuine enjoyment in having a friend who didn't _have_ to like him.  
  _:You're welcome,:_ she said, returning the happy thoughts.


	10. Demons and a Legendary Hug

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things change irrevocably.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I only know what I've seen on YouTube, so the tour bus and venues are partially created with artistic license.

Tour! Angel was finally going to see what tour life was like! Oh, they'd gone places, but not packed theatres with screaming fans. She'd never seen the chair girl routine live, or been to fan meet and greets.  
   She hoped she'd mastered Attila the Mun; otherwise he'd go back to the beanie, and she was fairly certain he'd had Attila for this tour...  
   While Kevin got dressed, she slicked his hair back into a ponytail. Once, twice, the hair went round the hair tie, and on the third time round she pulled a small portion through. The rest curled artfully below the tiny bun. She tacked the whole thing down with hairspray until Avi protested.  
   "Sorry, but there's always a ton of loose hairs by the end of the day. You'll want to look your best."  
   He turned and took their hands in his. "It looks fine. If you're really worried, keep the hairspray in your bag. You can spritz as needed, I promise."  
   She laughed shakily. "I'm being silly, aren't I?"  
    _:Yes, but it's sweet,:_ her angel said.  
   Avi dropped a light kiss on her cheek. "First tours are always the hardest."  
   Their Uber was the first to reach the tour bus. As such, they got an unobstructed view of the interior. There was a seating area behind the cheerful driver, followed by the bunks, and the bathroom. On the other end was the kitchen, and another seating area.  
   They strolled calmly from one end to the other, but they could hear the boys whooping and thumping things enthusiastically. The volume level increased exponentially when the rest of the band and entourage boarded the bus.  
   Unperturbed, Avi's angel made a mental inventory of what was on hand in the kitchen.  
   "Hey, how's it look?" She felt the hand at their waist was unnecessary while he peeked in the refrigerator, but Gabriel still wasn't objecting.  
   :Leave him be. While they tour, let him relax and enjoy himself. He does not need us scolding him at every turn. Did you not say his cheerful attitude was much beloved?:  
   She grumbled internally, but pasted on a smile for his benefit. "You've got ample stores, mon capitàn."  
  _:There, was that cheerful enough?:_  
   Gabriel sighed. _:It will do.:_  
   "So, where to first?" She knew, of course. She was making polite conversation to appease her wingman.  
   "We've already done the shows in Oakland, so it's bright lights, baby. Vegas, here we come!"  
   She cringed behind the smile she fought to retain.  
  _:He did not mean that the way it sounded.:_  
 _:I know...:_

   She quickly got the hang of tour, largely because a) Nobody could see her except children under twelve, and the occasional supernatural Pentaholic, and b) She had a wingman. Whenever she got overwhelmed, he soothed her frazzled nerves. There was nothing he could do to dampen her joy, so he left it alone. As she'd said in the beginning, her job was hazardous.  
   They stood in the wings during concerts. They had a good giggle over that. The angel was in the wings. They hovered behind him at meet and greets, projecting a subtle "move around" to keep people from walking through them. Gabriel said it was a very unpleasant experience.  
   Vegas was loud, and bright. Anaheim was crazy, in a good way. Orem, Utah was slightly more subdued, but that was entirely relative.  
   Then came the day she was dreading the most. They were going to the Mall of America before the Minneapolis concert. She knew the mall well, though she pretended ignorance. She must, otherwise he would know she'd been there. She noted places she had visited with fond memories, feeling unaccountably maudlin. The up side was, she knew where they could stand without being filmed. She had seen the recording enough times to know!  
   She watched the mini concert with a sense of déjà vu. Something was off, and she could not pinpoint why. She did not believe it to be the altered viewing angle. If Gabriel noticed anything amiss, he wasn't saying anything. Perhaps 'twas simply the reminder of their proximity to her old stomping grounds, and the fear that he would discover her prior identity.  
   She'd almost convinced herself of that, until after the concert that night. That was when the attack came.  
   The guard nodded them through to the small lot where the bus waited. Avi was, as usual, lagging behind the others. The rest of the band boarded the tour bus without incident, but his Guardian Angel jerked him back from a suddenly darkened circle about the vehicle. His blade was thrust into his hand before he'd fully realized they'd stopped.  
   He knew instinctively that this was no drill. He dropped into a crouch, blade barely extended. He'd learned the hard way what happened when you held a blade where a foe could reach it.  
   His angel stood in front of him, similarly poised. Their wings shielded him from whatever doused the lights, and the shortsword was as long as he was tall! Definitely  _not_ practice!  
   They sprang forward, spinning and dodging faster than his eye could follow. He could not see what they fought, but he heard sickening crunches when they connected with something. Black blood stained their sleeves, prodding him into motion.  
   Remembering their training, he wove the thrice-blessed blade (though he did not know it had been blessed) in a defensive pattern around himself. He pivoted unpredictably, muscle memory preempting the fear he might otherwise have felt. He was glad of the shadows, for no one would see their favorite bassist spinning like a madman with a knife in his hand.  
   He was also glad of his dark garments when a lucky strike against unseen assailant(s) yielded what he could only assume was arterial spray.  
   The skirmish was brief, over before the others could wonder where he'd been. He was towed up the stairs, onto the bus, and into the bathroom. He was perfunctorily stripped of his bloodstained clothes.  
   Mitch knocked on the door while he was being examined. "You okay in there?"  
   Avi looked at his Guardian Angel for help, but they were preoccupied.  
   "What do I tell him?" he whispered.  
   "Tell them someone threw acid on you, I don't know."  
   This news was received with alarm, and the door flew open to admit Esther. He held up a hand to forestall her. "Don't touch me yet! I'm soaking the clothes, and I'm about to get in the shower."  
   He sat on the toilet, a towel hastily slung about his hips. His clothes were in the sink, soaking in holy water. With the inky blood seeping into the water, it looked like the fabric was losing its color.  
   Mitchi reached for the maligned garments, but his hands were rapped sharply.  
   "Please remind him of the acid."  
   He looked at Mitchi, but he didn't seem to care about the supposed acid.  
   His Guardian Angel continued to check for cuts and blood, again urging him to warn Mitch. When he did nothing but look at his friend, they leaned back and scowled at him.  
   "Will you  _please_ warn your friends? I happen to like them, and this sh--tuff can kill a mortal in minutes!"  
   Shocked at this bit of information, he slapped the questing hands away.  
   "Don't touch that! What part of acid didn't you get? There's a  _reason_ I threw them in the sink! Now, I really need to get in the shower."  
   Then he realized that his Guardian Angel had  _told_ him to lie. He waited for his friends and sister to leave before confronting them.  
   "I thought you couldn't lie!" he hissed.  
   "We cannot," they agreed. "The Unclean blood is akin to acid, when in direct contact with human skin."  
   He fumed silently for a full minute. When he could no longer hold his tongue, he blurted "Then why didn't  _you_ tell them?"  
   A Bubble of Silence was erected. They could see this was going to require discussion. They did not immediately answer, opting instead to continue the search for cuts and blood spatter; though they would have known by now if there were any.  
   He caught the small, weathered hands in his. "I feel fine. My clothes caught it all. Tell me why you didn't warn them!" He shook her hands for emphasis.  
   When at last the gray eyes lifted, there was a great sorrow there that threatened to swallow him whole.  
   "Do ye not know, then?"  
   His brow furled. They gave in to temptation, smoothed the line away. It did not stay gone.  
   They reclaimed their hands, hid them within the safety of their stained sleeves. "We are  _your_ Guardian Angel."  
   The frown line deepened. "I know that."  
   "Remember when we met. You said 'I didn't think anyone could see their Guardian Angel.' You were half right." They waited for the light to dawn, but it never did.     They sighed clear down to their toes.  
   "You listen, but you do not _hear_." Gabriel's patience was wearing thin.  
   "People cannot see any  _except_ their own Guardian Angel," she said more gently.  
   Avi staggered back against the wall, clinging to it, and the toilet, for support.  
   "They never saw you?" His face blanched, making his beard stand out in stark contrast.  
   They shook their head slowly.  
   "But... What about the fairies, and all those kids? They saw you."  
   They smiled, though it did not reach their eyes. "Most humans cannot see us, though other supernatural beings may. The very young are pure enough, imaginative enough, that angels are still real to them. Adults tend to... forget."  
   He sat forward on the toilet seat. "You said no introductions. I just thought they saw you as a PA, or a bodyguard."  
   "And rightly so, had they known," they surprised him by saying.  
   An unpleasant thought suddenly occurred to him. "Wait, wait,  _that's_ why you brought me the ring!"  
  They nodded, and another layer of sorrow was revealed. Just when he thought he understood why she often looked sad, he learned something new.  
   But this sorrow was for him.  
   "We knew that someday you might question your sanity."  
   A sound that should have been laughter escaped through dry lips. "And of course, what I do is too important to take a vacation in the international house of ha ha."  
   The Vessel understood the reference, even if the angel did not. She turned the lock behind them and dropped to her knees in front of the bass on the throne. Gabriel bowed to no man, except in sarcasm, so he was at last gifted with her unshuttered face.  
   The features were rounded and even, if unexceptional. The jawline was squared, almost masculine. The nose was wide, and curved up at the end. Moles and freckles dotted the ordinary, totally average face. Full, bowed lips turned downward, thick brows knitted with suppressed emotion. Sleepy-lidded eyes that seemed to change color naturally welled with unshed tears.  
   "Yes, you are important, my dragon. More than you know. You have changed so many lives..."  
   The bronze-capped head bent, but to his surprise, she began unthreading the cloth that covered part of her hands. She slipped the purple fabric from its ring on her middle finger, peeled it back beyond her wrist.  
   When she had done the same with her other hand, she stood with her angel once more. Only when he could grasp her wrists would he begin to understand.  
   They held their hands out to him, palm down.  
   He looked at the small, slightly crooked fingers as though they might strike him. She knew what he thought she was trying to show him, ached with the knowledge that in the past, he might have seen what he expected.  
   They took hold of his hand, adorned with his beloved a capella ring, and placed one hand in it, palm up.  
   "No! Is that... Is it real?"  
   In answer, they held out the other hand. He seemed unable to release the one, eagerly grabbing the other. He put the two halves together, and a bass clef heart was formed.  
   He lifted eyes filled with wonder, and overflowing with tears. All he could say was what everyone said when they saw her tattoos: "Did they hurt?"  
   They nodded, smiling beatifically.  
   "Why do you smile, if it hurt?"  
   "Because it was worth it."  
   Then, for reasons no one understood, least of all her, she burst into tears. Gabriel still didn't know what to do when she cried. Fortunately, Avi did.  
   He gathered them, part and parcel, to his chest. Her tears flowed more freely down his lightly furred body, though he could not feel them.  
   After years of pining for this man, who never knew she existed, she was pressed at last against his bare flesh. Millions of men and women ogled him daily, but here she was. It was overwhelming.  
   He held her close, widening his knees so she could burrow into his chest more firmly. He stroked her shuddering back, smoothed her hair repeatedly. He kissed her forehead, hard, as though he could draw away some of her misery.  
   They clung to each other, lost in emotions that an angel could not be expected to understand. Words were expressed with hands and lips, until even those were not enough.  
   And so they spoke the oldest language of all.

   He woke in his bunk, clean and clothed with no memory of how he'd gotten there. He stumbled into the bathroom for a morning constitutional, and shuffled into the kitchen area, fully expecting breakfast.  
   He didn't smell anything cooking. There was no cereal, or carefully cut up banana. There were even dishes in the sink! What was going on?  
   A knock on the door of the tour bus interrupted his confusion, which was rapidly deteriorating to panic.  
   "Who could that be?"


	11. Torturous Rebirth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grab your tissues, 'cause this one's gonna sting. "Angel" must pay the price for her transgressions.

"Angel" did not wake up, because she was awake for her trial. One moment, she was in the arms of the man she adored, being consoled, and the next...  
   It felt as though all of her atoms parted ways, and ascended. She floated in a bright place, surrounded by many voices.  
  _:I think she might need those.:_  
_:Not anymore.:_  
   At first, there was no pain. She had no body with which to feel it. But then, oh then, she was whole. For reasons she could not yet fathom, she was pinned to a hard surface, face down. Four ethereal beings held her arms and legs, spread-eagle.  
   Then came the pain. One by one, her arms and legs were... reshaped..? Her arms were thrust through her scapulas, until her elbows became her shoulders. The humerus was split into many pieces with one swipe of her Creator's hand. The ulna and radius were snapped in twain, to create a new humerus and elbow.  
   Her legs were similarly treated; except her femurs were fused after they were thrust through her pelvis at a strange angle. Her tibias and fibulae were snapped in twain to form new legs and knees. Her hands and feet, strangely, were left largely alone.  
   Then He molded her skull, as though it were made of clay. She knew not what He did, for she'd gone nearly mad with pain.  
   Three more weights pinned her down, after she had been turned over. It did not feel right, lying on her back. Her entire spine was on fire, and she writhed in agony.  
  _:Have the materials been collected?:_  
_:Yes. Please don't ask where I got them.:_  
   "G...Gabriel?" She made a face. "Waugh! Why does my mouth feel funny?"  
    _:Hush, Little One. It is almost over.:_  
   She tried to reply, but what escaped her misshapen maw was little more than a whimper.  
   Everything hurt. If He was going to punish her, so be it. She would die happy. Even He could not take away the best five months of her life. They had been spent doing what many fangirls dreamed--plus some monster slaying, but she still wouldn't change any of it.  
  _:Remember what you said about your tattoos.:_  
_:Wha--why?:_  
   Fiery pain pierced her body, again and again. Sharp, jagged arcs of agony were carved into her very bones--and there seemed to be dozens more of them!  
   Her back arched, limbs pinned down by seven cruel beings while the eighth carved into her. There didn't seem to be any blood, though she could see nothing but a bright light. Gabriel's voice kept reminding her about her tattoos, but she could think of nothing that was worth _this!_  
   When it was over, she lay limp, gasping. She tried to curl in on herself, but something heavy was set on her abdomen.  
   "Noooooooo!" she wailed. Everything was on fire, and this new burden only added to her misery. She just wanted it to be over. What had she done to deserve this torture?  
  _:Hush, now. It is time to rest.:_  
   She was picked up, as gently as her friend could manage, and placed in a deep bowl. Finally given freedom to move, she coiled herself around whatever was weighing her down, and wept. Her tears filled the bowl, but she did not care. She was dead, she did not breathe.  
   A lid was placed on the bowl. Perhaps they will bury me now, she thought.  
    _:You have had your legendary hug, Little One. Now you must sleep for a time.:_  
   She sniffed. _:Silly angel, that was--:_  
   She never got to finish her thought. She fell into a deep slumber, plagued by voices barking orders she could not obey.  
   Then came the day she heard a voice she never thought she would hear again, muffled though it was. She strained to hear what it was saying.  
   "...Not kidding! He... egg... Christmas Eve!"  
  _Who's eating eggs on Christmas Eve?_  
   A different, yet still familiar voice filtered through her coffin. _Am I dreaming? Do the dead dream..?_  
   "How... know... egg?"  
   "I just do." His voice was stronger now. "Hey there, Angel. It's Christmas Eve."  
    _Good for you,_ she thought. _What do I care?_ She tried to roll away from the nuisance, but her coffin was too small.  
   Then her whole world tilted. Her limbs flew out in a classic startle reflex, struck the sides of her oblong coffin. Suddenly claustrophobic, she kicked and clawed at the strange bubble. She heard shrieking, probably from Mitchi, but she didn't care. She wanted _out!_  
   A loud crack startled her, and she froze.  
   "Eww! Get some paper towels or something! It's leaking!" Mitch was still freaking out, and she could hear it more clearly now. She kicked where she thought the crack was, as hard as she could.  
   "Whoa!" If not for the quick reflexes of one Avi Kaplan, she would have spilled into the world feet first, and onto the floor.  
   Everything assaulted her senses at once. Light hurt her eyes, so she shut them. Smells of cologne, fear, and food battled for dominance. And people were chattering a mile a minute.  
   She clawed at her ears and nose, trying to block it all out.  
   Then she was tucked into a cottony haven that smelled of laundry detergent and man, and muffled the noise. She burrowed further in and sighed.  
   Something warm and soft dried her glistening skin. _Wait, why am I wet?_ she wondered. How _am I wet? Do I actually have skin?!_  
   "I  _told_ you guys it was a real dragon egg!"  
   Her head whipped out of its cocoon so fast it scared Mitchi all over again.  
   "Mitchell, would you  _please_ stop shrieking? Did you just say you had a dragon egg?"  
   Well, she'd wanted silence...  
   "Hellooo? Avi? You said 'dragon egg'. Where?"  
   The cotton-wrapped arms bounced, as though he were trying not to laugh.  
   Scott piped up cautiously. "Does it not know? How can it not know?"  
   She scowled in his general direction, since she still could not see. "I can speak for myself, thank you very much! In case you couldn't tell, I happen to be a woman!"  
   "I can't believe it's really _alive!_ "  
   She aimed a glare at the speaker.  
   "Sorry! It's just... We thought, well, we thought you'd turn out to be a robot, or something."  
   She huffed, turned her back on the lot of them. It was warm and quiet in her cotton cave, and it smelled nice.  
   Avi gazed fondly at his new dragon. She was really here! When he'd opened the door to a delivery guy, he had been disappointed. He hadn't really thought his Guardian Angel would use something as mundane as a door, but it would've been nice to see her again.  
   "Mr. Kaplan?"  
   "Yes," he had answered, drawing the word out. He hadn't ordered anything online, and besides, they were on tour.  
   "Sign here, please."  
   He took the paper he was handed, but it was no ordinary packing slip. For one thing, it was entirely handwritten. For another thing, it was on parchment. It said the following:

 **"I, Avriel Benjamin Kaplan, do hereby swear to protect the contents of this box with my life. I will not tell anyone outside of Pentatonix and my sister, one Esther Rose Kaplan, what is in this box. Should either of the above conditions fail to be met, the item will be removed from my possession.**  
**"Terms apply until the item changes on December 24th, 2015. After one year from this date, the item should no longer require protection.**  
**"Merry Christmas. We would have sent this sooner, but these things take time to Create."**

   Below where he was to sign was one letter, signed in an elegant hand: G.  
   He stared dazedly at the delivery guy. "I don't know what this means."  
   "It means your Christmas wish from last year will come true this year, should you follow the guidelines set forth."  
   A slow smile spread across his face. "You mean that's a d--" He clapped a hand to his throat, unable to finish his question.  
   The delivery man's eyes flashed a familiar electric blue. "Careful, boy! You almost lost her before ye got her!"  
   His eyes widened. "Her?" He snatched up the odd-looking pen and signed his name with an excited flourish. Before he could hand the pen back, it stabbed his finger. When the single drop of blood touched the page, all of the ink turned red.  
   "Pleasure, sir. Your package."


	12. Here Be Dragon!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Angel" comes to terms with her new body.

Nine months later, Avi was holding his precious cargo at last! In awe and wonder, he stroked the small green head burrowed in his elbow. The scales turned purple when she leaned into the caress. _Iridescent scales!_ he marveled.  
   He ran his hand over her ridged spine, enjoying the pebbly texture of her hide. He was loath to touch the fragile-looking wings just yet, so he explored the more sturdy limbs instead. Her forelegs were tucked under his arm, so those long fingers skimmed every centimeter of her back, hind legs, head and neck.  
   To the woman who did not yet know what she was, his questing fingers ignited a forbidden fire. When it was only her head and back, she considered it a welcome homecoming. But when those lean, nimble digits seemed intent on learning every inch of her, she struggled mightily to remain pure of thought. She burrowed further into her cocoon.  
   "You're beautiful!" he murmured. "Marvelous!"  
   She crooned in wordless reply, reveling in the voice that rumbled at her ear.  
   Then she was being carried, probably over to the rest of the band. She refused to face them, embarrassed at being carried about like an infant.  
   Tentative hands reached to touch her, with gasps of delight all around.  
   "She's so _warm!_ "  
   Feeling crowded, she stuck her head out and glared in the general direction she thought they were. Her neck felt strange, and her head was heavier than she remembered.  
   They all leapt back. Mitch clung to Scott, who seemed equally freaked out. Kirstie clutched his other arm. Kevin flopped into the nearest chair. She couldn't see Esther.  
   Avi simply cooed at her like a baby, and patted her head. She scowled up at him, but instead of cowering as his friends did, he chuckled.  
   "You have lovely eyes. Do they still change color?"  
   She blinked up at him, becoming acclimated to the fuzzy way she was seeing the world. "Now, why would they cease to change colors?" She thought the question ridiculous.  
   He simply smiled.  
   "Yo, why are her eyes all milky?" Kevin asked.  
   "She just hatched, give them time."  
   "Hatched..?" she asked faintly. "Look, I don't know what's going on, or why your friends can see me, but would you _please_ put me down? This is highly inappropriate!"  
   He chuckled. "As you wish, my angel."  
   She refrained from pointing out that she was merely an angelic vessel.  
   Instead of setting her feet on the ground, he did a most preposterous and embarrassing thing--he set her on the table! She shuddered to think how this must appear to his friends!  
   She stood and put her hands on her hips--or she tried to. For some reason, her legs felt out of joint, and her fists rested on her knees. Her elbows wouldn't bend the way they used to, nor her back straighten fully. There was a heaviness there that she could not explain. It felt, too, like she wore a skirt with a train, which was odd.  
    _:Ah, Little One, this is most enjoyable. Have you truly not noticed, then?:_  
   She aimed a scowl in the general direction of the angel's voice, though Avi's chest blocked her hazy gaze.  
  _:Look down, silly child.:_ Amusement rippled through his voice, which annoyed her.  
  _:Why, am I naked?:_  
 _:Yes,:_ he laughed.  
   Outraged, she covered her body with her hands and looked down.  
   "Well, I guess dragons don't wear clothes," she said dazedly. She dropped to her haunches, suddenly lightheaded. She would have toppled sideways off the table, if Avi hadn't scooped her into his arms again. She slapped ineffectually at his arms and chest.  
    _:You need sustenance, little one.:_  
 _:Don't be silly, I haven't required it thus far.:_  
   Gabriel tsked at her. _:You have not had a physical form until this point.:_  
   Her head shot up, startling everyone except Avi. She spared them a brief glance of annoyance. :What did you just say?!:  
   He laughed. _:Consider it a promotion.:_  
 _:But... I don't know how to_  fight _as a dragon!:_  
   He sobered. _:The training is there; you have only to access the knowledge. Do you honestly think He would leave you two defenseless?:_  
 _:No,:_ she snarled. _:We are far too useful.:_  
   She had a sudden thought, which he heard and answered before she could voice it. :Only those you wish to see you will be able to do so. You are still hidden from the world. As I said, you are not defenseless.:  
  _:Okay, but how much of the dragon lore is actually true? I need operating parameters here.:_  
   She couldn't see the shrug, but she felt it nonetheless. _:If He wanted me to know, I would know. You are the only one gifted with the knowledge, little one. Look to yourself.:_  
   She ground her new, sharp teeth. _:That sounds suspiciously like a fare thee well.:_  
 _:For now, 'tis. Should you have need, I shall always come.:_ He smiled, she knew. It was a warmth behind her eyes. _:After all, are we not friends?:_  
 _:Oh!:_ The thought of eyes reminded her of a question. _:What's wrong with my eyes?:_  
   He chuckled. _:Nothing at all. You will simply have to get used to having three sets of eyelids. Do not open the third except when your instincts tell you to.:_  
   She blinked her outermost lids, confused. _:Why?:_  
   Gabriel was uncharacteristically serious. _:Your unshielded gaze is... potent. There are things you can see that only an angel would see.:_  
 _:Like what?:_  
 _:The very soul of a mortal.:_  
   She lay passive in the arms of her human, stunned. She wanted to ask why on earth she would need such a thing, but Gabriel was gone, and Time resumed about her.  
   As quick as thought, she was left very alone, without the constant soothing presence of her angel. Her friend. She was left in the care of six intimidating, awesome, inspiring people, with absolutely no buffer.  
   She didn't know whether to hide again, squeal like a fangirl, or throttle the nearest pillow.  
   Thankfully, Avi knew what to do. He made her pizza.  
   "Noodle" Hoying was the first to approach the ferocious kitten of a dragoness. He edged cautiously around the table, and she concentrated on opening her middle eyelids. When she'd figured it out, she saw Scotty eyeing her like a viper. It broke her heart a little, so she tried for a smile. He scooted further away. She cocked her strangely balanced head at him quizzically. Then she remembered the pointy new additions to her mouth and chuckled.  
   "Come now, no scaring our friends."  
   Warmth spread through her at the inclusive "our", before she remembered her lack of humanity. _Aw man,_ she thought, _that's gonna be a downer for a while..._  
   "I sometimes forget how I must look to you lot." _Because I only just figured it out myself,_ she thought. "For the record, that was supposed to be a smile. Still getting the hang of things, y'know."  
   Mitchi ran up to the table and hung half over it. "Ooh! Her eyes changed!" He looked at her the way she imagined he must look at new fashions: with excitement, and a keen eye for detail.  
   "If you think you're dressing me up in Wyatt's clothes, you're dead wrong."  
   Most of the assembled humans laughed, but more importantly, Scott relaxed.  
   She carefully climbed onto Avi's shoulder, to get out of those too-comfortable arms. Her new body wasn't totally foreign, it seemed. She was still bipedal, though she could be quadrupedal if necessary. She wasn't sure how she knew, but Gabriel had mentioned instincts, and training. Perhaps that's what she was feeling.  
   The wings took some getting used to. They felt unnaturally heavy, but as he had said, the knowledge was there. They were quite helpful in keeping her balance. She quickly got the hang of tucking them up and in when she was on his shoulder. Once she let the instincts take over, things got easier. After mastering basic wing movements, the tail was a piece of cake.  
   As it turned out, her tail was prehensile. It was lashed around his neck for stability, but it looked to the others like possessiveness. She assured herself that it only went halfway round his neck, to avoid asphyxia.  
   "Dragons do  _not_ wear Vetements, Mitchi."  
   They all laughed, that time.  
   She nearly lost her footing when Avi bent to remove the pizza from the microwave. Her head went back, wings mantled, in an attempt to reach equilibrium. To the assembled musicians (and Esther), her nose seemed to go in the air, in hauteur.  
   Avi straightened and turned to his friends and sister, forcing her to turn around with as much dignity as four unfamiliar appendages, and three new ones, would allow. He leaned against the counter, prompting more adjustments on her part. She eyed the food pointedly, but he didn't seem to notice.  
    _Well, I needn't have worried about getting flabby,_ she mused, chuckling inwardly.  
   "This," he said, setting the food on the table at last, "is my Guardian--"  
   Her tail whipped across his mouth, on the pretext of walking down his arm. Mitch asked what her name was, and she calmly removed her tail.  
   Avi said "Angel," meaning Guardian Angel, but they needn't know that.  
   With what appeared to be dainty, ballerina steps down his arm (but were actually "please don't let me fall" tiptoes), she descended to the tabletop once more. The tail, which had been so handy on the way up, threatened to send her head over hocks. Fortunately, her wings compensated when she partially extended them.  
   Her new muzzle gave her momentary qualms. She could not imagine a way to eat flat food from a flat plate. Her mouth was now long and narrow, instead of short and wide. In the end, she decided to eat with her hands. After all, dragons were not simple beasts!  
   She ate the food with such careful, ladylike bites that Scott and Mitch were emboldened enough to perch nearby and coo at her. She felt like a kitten they wanted to put a sparkly collar on. Her frills twitched with annoyance, which seemed to further enchant the trio of boys.  
   Kirstin peeked around Scott, and soon she was under the spell the dragoness did not intentionally weave.  
   "Hey, Angel?" Kirstie asked tentatively.  
   "Yes?" she said warily.  
   "May I pet--touch you? I didn't get a chance, before..."  
   She heaved a sigh, but nodded once, rather jerkily. This seemed to be taken as a general acquiescence, for they all reached toward her.  
   She continued to eat, refusing to make it easy for them. She hadn't eaten in over a year and a half. The dead do not require fuel, for they have no bodies. The fluid in her shell, as she now knew her "coffin" to be, had only provided basic nutrients. She had not tasted real food in so long that she devoured all three pieces, despite the sausage and pepperoni.  
   She sat straight, startling three of her admirers, and nearly overbalancing. It would take some getting used to, not sitting as she was accustomed to. She looked up at her human in entreaty. He took the plate with neither reluctance nor fear, for which she was pleased. He was the one person she could not afford to alienate or frighten.  
   "Same kind okay? I think there's supreme in here, too. We, ah, don't eat much home cooked food..." He trailed off, embarrassed at the unintentional reminder that she'd left. He could cook, and sometimes did, but it just wasn't the same.  
   "Supreme, if you've got it. Honestly, I haven't eaten in who-knows-how-long, so I'm not particularly picky."  
   He popped two more slices in the microwave, though she would've eaten it cold. "Nine months, seventeen days," he said.  
   "Pardon?" She asked, startled.  
   "Hmm?" He looked up from the microwave window.  
   "What about nine and a half months?" She spoke slowly and clearly, not entirely sure she wanted to know.  
   He flushed. Apparently, he hadn't realized he spoke aloud. "Uh, that's how long..."  
   "He's been counting the days 'til Christmas Eve," Kevin interrupted.  
   "Been driving us crazy, dancing around and making up songs about his dragon." This was from Scott. Both were smirking like bratty little brothers who know all the embarrassing details.  
   A chill raced down her spine. "Nine and a half months..?"  
   Avi soothed her with gentle words, plucking her from the table and holding her close. "Heyyy, it's okay, Angel. We're alive, no harm, no foul. It wasn't your fault." He spoke low enough that only Esther heard him.  
   The microwave dinged. He transferred her to one arm, removed the pizza, and set both on the table.  
   She ate at a more sedate pace, and sat back when she was finished. She definitively pushed the plate to the side.  
   When Avi took the plate away, Scott said "You're braver than me! How'd you know she doesn't bite?"  
   Before he could tell them about her human past life, she spoke up. "I would be a poor Guardian indeed, were I to bite the hand that fed me!"  
   Scott had the grace to blush. It would take time, she knew, for them to see her as a sentient being, instead of a pet.  
   "So, how does it work? They just drop you off and you protect whoever is there when you hatch?"  
   She heard honest curiosity, despite the surface sarcasm, and marveled that she could sense these things. She replied as best she could.  
   "More or less, though I would presume 'tis a bit more refined than that. You lot," she said, looking around the rough circle of faces, "touch a lot of lives. When it was learned that one of you wanted a dragon for Christmas, it was decided that it would be a good fit."  
   Half-truths and skirting the big picture were all she could manage, within the Angelic Restrictions. She was the one who knew Avi wanted a dragon, but when she became a Vessel, her knowledge was shared with the entire Host. Gabriel had mentioned dragons, though he'd never gone into detail about how that was supposed to work.  
  _Well, now I know, don't I?_  
   "Who is--are--'we'? Who sent you?"  
   She further skirted the issue. "I just hatched. Even if I did know from whence I came, have ye never heard of the secretive nature of dragons? If we gave away all of our secrets, we would be extinct!" Lying was  _so_ much easier than only telling truths!  
   She was the only dragon in existence, so technically dragons were no longer extinct. As such, her imposed secrecy was categoric of all dragons. Anything she did, in actuality, would become "typical" draconic behavior, since there were none left to do otherwise.  
   This revelation was both liberating and terrifying. 'Twas an enormous burden to bear, but bear it she must! She had to be the best dragon she could, and to do that, she must shed her humanity like so many old scales. Dragons of lore could possess the nobler qualities of humankind, so there wasn't much to rearrange in her head.  
   Forestalling any more questions, she leapt nimbly onto her human's shoulders, proud not to have fallen or otherwise embarrassed herself. She curled around his neck like a stole, and closed her eyes. The food sat comfortably on her stomach, and she appeared to doze off. A keen observer would have noticed the occasional twitch of an ear, and she set one tiny paw against his neck, should a gentle correction be required.  
   Scott, Mitch, Kirstin, and Kevin reluctantly left for their various holiday celebrations. Only Esther remained. She stood, leaning against the doorframe, with an expectant look on her face.  
   Avi tried to walk past her, so they could go back to the cabin in the woods, but she blocked his path.  
   "You going to tell me what's going on?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the rest of Angel and Avi's story, see the second part of the series, "Avi's Dragon"!

**Author's Note:**

> [ Artist/author fan page ](https://www.facebook.com/groups/752900498252678/)


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